Skip My Rounds Tonight
by lilyjack00
Summary: I would have called this "Much Ado About Nothing" but some guy took that title already. This fic is awfully short on plot and long on sweet romance. The end. You might be better served reading the fine print of the Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes rules. No, honest to pete.
1. Chapter 1

Skip My Rounds Tonight

by

Lilyjack

 _Overblown Author's Note: This romantic fic is NOT realistic. It contains wagonloads of sweet lovin' and UST (Unresolved Sexual Tension to those uninitiated in ff jargon) so if you are put off your feed by either flights of fancy or smut biscuits drippin' with butter and honey, vamoose while you still got the chance, Gunsmokers. Don't say I didn't warn ya'. I'm partial to my Matt and Kitty sweet n' hot._

 _On the Golden Rule: I believe there's room on the wide prairie for every fic writer's own interpretation of our favorite couple. Please just take a moment to gift writers you enjoy with a vote of confidence when you do happen to approve of their hard work. It requires major courage to put yourself out there. Trust me, I know. If amateur authors were publishing their fics and hearing nothing but crickets in return, then the publishing would soon stop. No money *and* no feedback? What's the point in hitting "post?"_

 _And if you have constructive suggestions for becoming a more successful writer, please send the author a kind, helpful PM. That's a Private Message—you've gotta be registered here to send those PM's so please join us if you haven't already. Seriously, no one enjoys being corrected in the public eye—it is humiliating. Just remember the Golden Rule and nobody'll get hurt. "Do unto others…" are words everyone should live by. These United States would be a whole lot better place to live nowadays if everyone did. Just sayin'._

 _I realize I am preachin' to the choir for 99.9% of Gunsmokers, and you all are predominantly a gracious, thoughtful bunch of people. I've been blessed with the acceptance of this community and for that I am endlessly grateful. I've spent hours of personal pleasure crafting these stories and earn no rewards save your enjoyment. When I get a thumbs up review from a reader, be it extravagantly written or just a few simple, sincere words, it is the absolute cherry on the cake of my day, the speckledy gravy on my crunchy-bottomed biscuit. And I am purdy dadgum sure it is likewise for any fanfic writer putting their heart and soul smack dab on the screen for your personal enjoyment, as nerve-wracking as that is for them to do._

 _Lastly thank goodness, this little fic is dedicated to my girlz. It is chock full of references from our chats and was written in ten-minute fits and starts, back and forth in its timeline as I was inspired by our hilarious and somewhat ribald discussions of our favorite tv show. I've never written a story in such a crazy quilt fashion before so I hope it makes a lick of sense. Also, I am writing this fic WITHOUT A NET. Yikes. Yes, Gunsmoke fans, NO BETA because I wanted it to be a little surprise for those who usually beta for me. So, here we go, girlz – anotherredhead, BigMommaT, broncomap, DodgeCityAngel, gsobsess, gunshy1, gunsmokecats, ladybrit, moonstone maiden, Picajc15425, rosebudlady, smokey (BF), TennBlueBelle, tjp, and in memoriam to two beloved girlz we lost in one devastating week this summer-we miss you so much it's like a sucker punch in the midsection to realize you're gone forever, dear Reese and Lady of Dodge. This romantic piece of fluff is for you all, an amalgamation of hours of uproarious speculation and nonsense with my GS besties. I've outed you all that you hang out with a reprobate rabblerouser like me. Please don't be too awful mad at me and I hope this little story entertains you and reminds you of some of our best chats._

 _Let me apologize, dear readers, for the extreme ranginess of this "author's note," but you should know from experience that I carry on for a bit when I've got the podium. You've read my fics before, right? Ramblers, one and all… Now without further ado, let's get on with this here horse opera…_

Chapter 1

or

"Hard, Lonely Prairie vs. Kitty Russell's Warm Bed? You Decide."

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Matt Dillon lay on the unforgiving prairie earth, a thin bedroll precious little protection for stiff limbs that'd taken too damn many bullet hits throughout the years in the name of duty. As he tossed and turned, he could hear Festus softly snoring a short distance away on the opposite side of their tiny crackling campfire, murmuring in his sleep. From the sound of things, his deputy was arguing with Doc in his dreams, and from the occasional small chortle he emitted, the grizzled hillman must be winning, hands down. The restless marshal sighed enviously. He firmly believed Festus could sleep on a rickety picket fence in a thunderstorm.

The aging lawman gazed up at the bewitching moon waxing very near its climax, wispy black clouds scudding across the etched pearly surface. It hung, silently eloquent in the night sky, accompanied by a mute chorus of countless glimmering stars, a sight he'd never wearied of in all his years of travel on the western plains. Listening to the sad serenade of a lone coyote, he dragged his big, calloused palm tiredly across a perspiring forehead that was tanned and furrowed with lines from hours spent in the unforgiving Kansas climate. He grumbled to himself – how could it be so late and still hot as blue blazes out here?

Staring up at the night sky, chewing idly on a thumbnail with one elbow propping up his head, Matt lay wondering what Kitty Russell was doing right at that particular moment, as was his customary habit when he was traveling the lonely grasslands. He was missing her something fierce tonight. He and Festus had been gone two solid weeks, and Matt was hankering for her gentle touch, the whispered words of comfort she always offered after a particularly difficult job.

He and Festus had spent an arduous journey tracking down two murdering bank robbers who'd left a bloody trail of innocent victims along their getaway route. In the end, the tenacious U.S. Marshal and his deputy had caught up with them both, but Matt Dillon deeply regretted the loss of life, including the criminals themselves who'd fought the lawmen to their deaths. Such a senseless waste of human life from beginning to bitter end.

They had strapped the two dead outlaws to their horses and hauled them to the Hays City sheriff for official identification. The suspects had been wanted there as well in connection with yet another robbery and murder. After positive identification from Hays witnesses, the deceased were photographed for posterity, a custom which had always made Matt wince, and sent to the undertaker. Matt just hoped the bodies weren't placed on public display before they were buried, a practice he personally found distasteful and had never tolerated in Dodge City.

Now that Matt was heading home empty-handed and with a hollow heart, he felt an overwhelming need to replenish his reserves in the company of the love of nearly twenty years of his own life, the spirited, titian-haired owner of the Long Branch Saloon. She would be waiting patiently for him, or pretending to wait patiently as she could never be certain he'd make it back in one piece from these official trips, or if he'd come home wrapped in a gunny sack, tied across his own saddle, himself a body to be planted six feet under.

He knew how hard his job was on Kitty Russell, and it distressed him that he didn't know how to make it any easier on her. He also admitted he worried his fool head off about her when he had to leave her for very long. Cruel experience had proven on many occasions that awful things could happen when he wasn't there to protect her. Those were the facts. It was the bitter price they both paid for loving each other.

Matt pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped at his perspiring face and neck. It had been hotter than hell all day, riding poor Buck beneath the unrelenting sun heading for Dodge. But he and Festus were exhausted and eager to get home, no matter how scorching the heat. Matt reached for his canteen, popped out the cork and took a deep drink of lukewarm water. Regardless of its temperature, it felt mighty soothing on his parched throat.

Jamming the cork back onto his canteen, Matt settled back onto his bedroll with a sigh and closed his eyes, returning his thoughts to Kitty to take his mind off his current troubles. He imagined her when she was just a young girl working for Bill Pence. She had worn risqué dresses with short skirts that showed off her bare legs and décolleté necklines that plunged a mite lower than your average rancher's daughter's dress. He hadn't been able to keep his eyes off her, she was such a pretty thing with those daring expanses of creamy skin, soft and round in all the right places. She had a smile that knew how to welcome a man and eyes that encouraged him to look into their depths, not glance away shyly as he'd sometimes done with the girls when he was younger. He'd hoped nobody noticed him staring – he didn't think they did anyway. He even worked up the courage to actually tell her she was pretty once in a while. He thought she knew how he felt; he'd never been one for fancy words and it was hard to express himself eloquently. But Kitty always seemed to understand what was in his head and in his heart, even when the words he spoke were plain and simple.

One sweltering night it had been as scorching as any in memory in Dodge City. It was smack dab in the middle of a week-long heat wave that had wilted the starch of even the stubbornest troublemaker in town. Pretty much everyone was too listless or just downright exhausted with the overbearing temperatures to venture out into the myriad saloons, poolhalls, dancehalls, and other night spots to stir up much in the way of trouble.

Matt effortlessly strode down the abandoned boardwalk and right up to the battered batwing doors of the Long Branch, pausing to search inside for one special girl. His hand unconsciously scrubbed over his stubbled face, and he hoped he wasn't covered in too much trail dust this evening. With the way he was sweating, it would look more like mud. Usually he tried to get cleaned up before coming to see Kitty, but he'd been gone for several days and was anxious to see her, if only to just say hello and come back again later after a proper bath and a shave. He knew she wouldn't mind – had even teased him that she liked him looking kinda scruffy sometimes, whatever that meant.

His stomach fluttered inside at the sight of her sitting alone at a table with her back to him, playing Solitaire, a habit she had picked up very recently to occupy herself when she was bored. The place was nearly deserted; Red the bartender was there, having a quiet conversation with a lone customer wearing a yellow and black plaid jacket with striped pants and smoking a fat cigar at the end of the bar, clouds of gray puffing up from time to time like steam from a locomotive engine. One other patron was present in body only, a drunken young cowpoke at a small table close to the wall, his hand still clutching his empty glass. A nearly full bottle of Old Crow was open next to it, and he softly snored with his forehead and nose pressed against the tabletop. Apparently, the young man did not handle his liquor well, Matt thought. He realized he would probably have to provide the boy lodgings at the jail for the evening if he didn't wake soon and get along back home under his own steam.

Matt ambled on into the saloon silently, heading for Kitty's table. Her posture immediately changed although she hadn't turned around. She continued playing her hand with her eyes on the table and greeted him amiably, "Evenin', Matt."

He sidled next to her, looking down. She was wearing a softly shining satin dress with the flimsiest of straps to keep it on her bare shoulders, and it reminded him of the color of ripe peaches in July. Matt was staring at the small, sweet, intriguing amber freckles on those bare shoulders, following them along her collar bone and on down, wondering exactly how much farther down they…

She interrupted his train of thought, "What brings you here this fine scorcher of an evenin'?"

He started and was glad she still had her eyes on her game instead of looking at him. Instead of looking at him looking at her. "How did you know it was me…just then? Walking up behind you? I coulda' been anybody."

"I heard you walk in."

"You know what my footsteps sound like, do ya'?" His voice held a tinge of surprise and more than a bit of approval.

"There aren't too many six foot seven cowboys that come in here, Marshal. You've got a distinctive gait, I guess you could say." She tilted her face up and gave him a radiant, if somewhat wilted, smile. "Sit down." Laying her cards on the scarred table, she attempted to blow a sticky curl off her damp forehead, snapping open a beaded brown silk fan to cool herself.

Matt folded his tall body into a chair close to her, returning her smile. But then he leaned even nearer, advising soberly, "Next time, Kitty, you might consider sitting facing the door to keep your eye on who comes in here. I wouldn't want you surprised by someone whose footsteps you don't know."

"Alright, Matt." She gave a surprised nod, meeting his suddenly earnest gaze, but murmured her easy agreement, "I will."

The pensive moment passed just as suddenly as it began, and he good-humoredly asked, "Why are you still here? Looks like all the other girls have vamoosed for the night. This place is dead." Leaning back in his chair, Matt removed his sweat-stained hat, placed it on the table, and dragged a blue chamois sleeve over his perspiring face.

"I've been closing for Bill the past few nights. He was hot and tired and decided to head on home and leave everything to me. Think I might even tell Red to take off, too. No sense in both of us hangin' around here with the place nearly empty like this."

Matt's dark eyebrows nearly touched his curly hairline. "Bill Pence sets quite a store by you, Kitty, doesn't he? First letting you take over his books and now leaving you to close up for the night?"

"Why?" Her expression turned slightly defensive, maybe a little hurt. "Don't you think I deserve his trust?"

"Course you do!" Matt rushed to clarify. "I only wanted to say that I…well, I'm proud of you is all."

The look on her face instantly softened. "You are?"

"Sure I am. I'm awful proud of you, Kitty. You think he would ever trust ol' "Mean Green" Olive with his accounts?"

Kitty laughed. "No, and she and I've nearly had it out over me being in charge the last couple of nights. She hasn't liked it one bit."

"Ahhh, she'll get over it. You'll straighten her out, Kitty."

"You think so?"

"I know so." His eyes twinkled slyly. "Besides, I've seen you fight. You'd beat that rabble-rouser Olive, hands down."

Kitty gave an unladylike snort. "You seem awful sure of yourself."

"Yep."

She just smiled at him wordlessly, tiny wayward curls sprung by the humidity from her normally neat coiffure bouncing as she fanned herself. Finally, she simply stated, "I'm glad you're back, Matt."

He had to shake himself from admiring how his companion's dewy skin and soft, loose red curls set off her startlingly blue eyes. Instead he retained the good sense to remark, "You, uh, you think something could come of all this?"

"Too early to tell." She leaned her chin in her palm, elbow on the table. "But…a girl can have hopes, can't she?" She absently tucked a wayward lock behind her ear.

"Hopes?" He was intrigued and sat forward in his chair, steepling his fingers. "What kinda hopes, Kitty?" Watching her smooth her hair back, Matt suddenly wished he could just reach over and lift that pearl comb out of her hair, the one that seemed to be holding it up, so that it would all tumble down around her shoulders, blazing fire in the lamplight. He had seen it down a few times when he had caught her _en déshabillé_ ; the sight was enough to drive him to distraction. He had tried to act perfectly normal, but in reality, he was consumed with wanting to touch it, run his fingers through it, inhale its fragrance… Kitty's voice jerked him back to the present. He focused on what she was saying instead of schoolboy daydreams; she was sharing her hopes with him.

"Oh, well maybe I don't always see myself workin' for somebody else. Maybe I might wanna be the boss someday." She ceased when she noticed the look on his face, equal parts admiration with an epiphanic moment thrown in for good measure. She laid her hand on his arm and gave a gentle squeeze, "Oh, I'll tell you about it sometime, but right now let's have a drink. I've been sittin' too long. Come on up to the bar with me."

Pushing aside his disappointment that Kitty wasn't quite ready to talk to him about her plans for the future, Matt pulled her chair out, grabbed his hat and, as usual, placed a hand in the small of her back as they walked companionably the short distance to the bar. Right away, Matt realized something was amiss. Kitty felt _different_. Something really was missing—those multitudinous layers of "ladies' armor" of various and sundry thicknesses that usually stood as a barrier between Matt's hand and Kitty's feminine charms. His eyes widened—he detected no bustle, no petticoats, no corset, as far as he could tell. My oh my, she felt so _soft_ with nothing between his hand and Kitty's warm skin but a thin layer of satin. It sent his imagination soaring.

tbc

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	2. Chapter 2

Skip My Rounds Tonight

by Lilyjack

Chapter 2

or

"Underwear is Overrated"

Kitty quickly called, "Two beers, Red," uttering her thanks when he delivered them with a wink and a smile. Giving the polished wood a cursory swipe with his towel, Red then returned to his cigar-smoking friend at the end of the bar. Their conversation had become louder and more boisterous as time went on, and the smoker had increased his consumption of top shelf spirits. Evidently the man had greenbacks lining his pockets.

Matt and Kitty faced the bar, drinking their foamy brew, inhaling its yeasty scent. Very daringly but completely unable to resist, Matt unobtrusively reached out and casually lay his hand on Kitty's back again as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Tracing the curve gently, he slipped his big hand on around her small waist and gave it a little appreciative squeeze, feeling nothing there but smooth satin and 100 percent pure Kitty Russell, by golly.

She cut her eyes up at him, realizing that she'd been found out. Murmuring quietly so that Red and his customer couldn't hear, she offered, "Matt Dillon, it's hotter'n a firecracker on the Fourth of July. And there's hardly anybody in here to know I'm not wearing a buncha hot ladies' unmentionables." She shot him a little frown. "Leave it to a lawman to figure it out."

He gave her the smallest of crooked smiles as his voice raised a notch and cracked. "I didn't say a word." But he didn't remove his hand from her warm, yielding waist either. His blue eyes drank her in but it was with a new appreciation.

She cut her eyes up at him again. "You men just don't understand what with all the sweltering layers ladies have to wear…the shifts and the boned corsets and the corset covers and the petticoats and that _bustle_ …"

Matt took a deep draw of his cool beer and swallowed, wiping the foam off his upper lip with the back of his hand. "None of that for you tonight, huh?" He never took his gaze off her.

"No," she answered grumpily, then looked at him in alarm. "You won't go telling Chester and Doc, will you?" She grabbed a pretzel from a nearby bowl on the bar and bit down hard, chewing as she exclaimed, "Heavens sakes, those two would—"

"What do you take me for, Kitty? I'm not a blabbermouth like Chester. Your secret's safe with me." He raised two dark brows and added conspiratorially, "A girl's gotta right to be cool now, doesn't she?"

"You bet she does. And don't get me started on pantaloons." Her blue eyes glittered as she continued chewing on her pretzel with zest. "Ain't that a pretty name for some long, uncomfortable, sticky…"

Matt choked on his beer and finished for her, sputtering "…drawers?"

"Nuh-uh, too damn hot…" She grabbed another pretzel. "You want another beer? I'm thirsty. Red, can we have another? The Marshal's buyin'."

The U.S. Marshal's ears turned pink at the tips at the implication of their enlightening conversation. He was mortified that his own body began to betray him and react to that particular news in a most distracting way. He removed his hat and casually held it in front of his button fly as Kitty continued her diatribe of women's fashion, completely unaware of his discomfort.

"How on earth are women supposed to work or simply exist comfortably—"

Matt shushed her by unceremoniously sticking another pretzel in her mouth when Red delivered their beers. They both said their thanks, watching him walk away over the tops of their mugs as they drank deeply.

When they heard the conversation at the end of the bar resume, Kitty licked the foam from her upper lip and picked up where she had left off. "…with all those clothes on, tell me that? Matt, do you have any idea what a corset does to a woman's insides? No wonder so many ladies are sickly or have always got the vapors, fainting dead away at the slightest little thing. Men have them all trussed up like chickens, baking in the heat."

Not even drawers…Matt sighed to himself, gazing at her, beautiful even when fit to be tied. That was one of the things he liked about her so awful much. Kitty was a pistol alright. She could handle most of the roughnecks who came through those swinging doors all by herself. She was no delicate flower. She had spirit and grit and determination and he admired her for that.

But right now, her brow damp with perspiration and a look of fire in her eyes as she gave society and their expectations of how women should dress a piece of her mind, all Matt could think about was the fact that Kitty Russell was not wearing drawers. Or a corset. Or much of anything presently. He nodded his head at her statements and murmured his agreement from time to time, but his eyes were captivated by a bead of sweat that languidly trickled down her chest and threatened to disappear between her breasts, although she caught it just in time with a dainty lace handkerchief. Her _unbound_ breasts, Matt swallowed as he reminded himself, and he retrieved his handkerchief from his pocket to dab at his own sweat pooling in the hollow below his Adam's apple.

Kitty suddenly paused in her diatribe and took another long draw from her glass. She observed him mopping the wet skin at his throat and smiled, her face instantaneously changing from bad-tempered to sunny and perhaps a little impish. "I see it was a three-button day for you, Marshal."

"Three…?" Matt asked, perplexed and, truth be told, still utterly distracted with provocative thoughts of his companion. "Uh, button…?"

He watched, entranced as she leaned closer until he was witness to an intoxicating view of her distinctly _un_ trussed, pillowy bosom. His extreme height held more than its share of advantages.

"Marshal Dillon, you're a very buttoned up kinda lawman, you know."

"I, uh…I am?" He heroically attempted to focus his eyes on her face while she was speaking to him, but his gaze kept mutinously drifting down to her lovely womanly attributes, a problem he frequently found himself confronted with whenever they were together. Her lavish figure was often a powerful personal distraction, albeit a thoroughly pleasurable one, if he were to be totally honest. He just couldn't help himself. He was only a flesh and blood man, after all.

"Yes, you certainly are, almost always buttoned near to the top." Her arresting blue eyes were twinkling mischievously at him, and between her disarming, beguiling smile that could tempt a preacher man and the creamy, curvy expanses of damp, fragrant skin disorienting him right here this very minute, Matt Dillon thought his head might explode. And he wasn't rightly sure which one would come first either, by golly.

"Maybe I notice when a handsome marshal leaves a couple extra shirt buttons undone." She winked at him playfully as she placed a slender index finger on a button right in the middle of his chest. "And when he leaves that damn vest off." Raising a meaningful eyebrow, she firmly nodded and had to lean her head back to look him in the eye. "I sure do like it when you leave that thing at home." Then she reached up and smoothed her gentle hands over his broad, vestless shoulders.

He held extra tight to the Stetson wedged firmly between them. "Now, Kitty," he began to quietly complain, but her hands were burning trails clear through his sweat-dampened shirt to the sensitized skin beneath and sending smoke signals straight to parts of his body best left alone here in the public eye. His voice rose a notch. "Don't you go teasin' me. I thought we were having a serious conversation."

"Don't you 'Now, Kitty' me. I _am_ serious." She laid her palm on his chest and soothed, "A girl can admire a strong, handsome man, can't she?"

Matt's ears flushed pink once more. "There you go again…" The feel of her warm hand pressing against his chest made him think she must be able to feel his heart thumping like an Indian drum.

Kitty stopped smiling and looked up at him earnestly through thick lashes, not offering to remove her hand. "I'm sorry, Matt. I'm not teasing you, honestly. I meant what I just said."

Matt's mouth went dry. He was feeling a mite woozy. Maybe it was because he hadn't eaten a square meal since before he'd gone out on the prairie, but he also realized this feisty young woman could disarm him like no ordinary outlaw ever could. He was going to have to do his best never to let her realize that fact or else he thought he might be doomed. Doomed to what he wasn't quite sure, but the fleeting thought crossed his hazy consciousness that maybe sharing a fate with this stunning firebrand might actually not be so bad after all.

He glanced up quickly to make sure no one was watching them share their intimate moment, but the cowhand was still passed out cold on the table, damn the luck—something would have to be done about him—and Red and the cigar-smoking, fancy pants dresser were guffawing at a private joke, still deep in conversation, thankfully not paying the two of them any mind a'tall.

Kitty seemed to sense that he was tense. "I know what you need, Matt. You need a real drink. You're tired and you've been away on a long trip. This one's on me."

As she left him to get their drinks, Matt leaned on the bar, casual-like, relieved that she had put some space between them so he could catch his breath and calm his…uh, nerves. But he enjoyed viewing her unencumbered sashay as she walked away away—oh, what a vision—to retrieve from beneath the bar what she called her "special stash, a bottle of Woodford Reserve, Kentucky straight bourbon. It's mighty good corn."

"Kitty, you know I don't usually drink whiskey while I'm on duty…" But then he glanced down at the Stetson he was attempting to hold nonchalantly in front of his pants and amended, "…but maybe just this once."

"I knew you'd see it my way," she smiled. Kitty set out two shiny glasses, uncorked her bottle of sour mash and poured them both a generous measure. Raising her glass, she toasted, "Here's lookin' at ya'!"

Matt choked a little on his own spit. He raised his glass and echoed a mite guiltily, "Yeah, Kitty, here's lookin' at ya'…" He tossed back the 90-proof, aged bourbon in one fiery swallow, eyes watering, all the while thinking he could look at Kitty Russell all day long with that beautiful red hair and blue eyes, porcelain complexion, creamy shoulders, and those big, beautiful, voluptuous—"

Busting through the swinging doors, two young ranch hands made their presence known by whooping and hollering their way to the bar a few feet from Matt. He rolled his eyes heavenward. Oh hell, just what they needed. Between the strong whiskey and the uninvited guests, not to mention putting some distance between Kitty's warm, supple body and his own, his "enthusiasm" was quickly waning, he was happy to note. His death grip on the Stetson loosened and he felt himself relaxing, in more ways than one. He leaned forward on the bar, smiling good-naturedly at Kitty, doing his best to ignore the two young rascals chuckling and smacking each other over the head next to him.

"Whoa, whoa! Raefort, dammit, you 'bout knocked my ear clean off. I need me a drink— Woowee, wouldya' lookee what we got here? Sweetheart, come 'ere and give us a drink. Yer just 'bout the pertiest little thing I ever did see. What're you doin' back there? Come on out here with us."

Raefort whole-heartedly agreed, "Yep, li'l gal, you surely don't belong hidin' behind no bar. I want you at a table with us. How 'bout you, Lonnie? You think she'd set in my lap?"

Kitty opened her mouth to give them a piece of her mind, but Red quickly appeared to distract them. "What would you young gents prefer to wash the trail dust from your parched throats, eh? Beer? Whiskey? What'll you have?"

Kitty backed away unobtrusively as Red spoke with the men. She felt relieved the situation was quickly and efficiently diffused by the skillful barkeep and began to round the bar to rejoin Matt.

Lonnie spoke, "I'll take a whiskey with a beer chaser…" He smacked his money on the bar. "…and this li'l ol' gal right here!" With that, Lonnie quickly sidled up to Kitty, grabbing her by the waist and holding her tightly against him.

tbc

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	3. Chapter 3

Skip My Rounds Tonight

by Lilyjack

Chapter 3

or

"What'd You Just Say to Me?"

Kitty pushed hard against the young man, exclaiming, "Get your hands _off_ of me!"

"C'mon, girlie, me and Raefort just wanna have a little fun. That's what we're all here fer, ain't it?"

Matt was instantly alert, moving close, trying to appear calm. "The lady says she wants you to let her go." All eyes in the bar were fixed on them. Even the sleeping cowhand had woken from his stupor to rest his cheek on his palm and groggily take in the unfolding drama.

But Lonnie was certainly having a hard time holding Kitty Russell.

"Let…me…" She stomped his foot viciously with a well-placed shoe heel. "… _go_!"

"Dammit, woman… Aughhh!" But he was a determined lothario, and he held tight as she struggled.

"I told you…" Matt Dillon's jaw muscle twitched and his eyes narrowed. "…the lady doesn't want your hands on her."

Raefort was carefully watching the exchange from the bar, nursing his beer. "Uh, Lonnie, maybe you should do what the Marshal says."

"Marshal? Oh yeah, I see that badge you got there. This one's full a' piss an' vinegar, she is. And, hell's afire, she's soft as a kitten, too. I could squeeze her right up. She sure makes a man stand up and take notice, don't she?" Lonnie winked rakishly at Kitty.

Matt's fists flexed at his sides. "Listen to me, you young jackass, I'm not tellin' you a third time."

"Showin' customers a good time is this gal's job, ain't it? Marshal, why do you care about her anyways? She ain't nuthin' but a-"

The rest happened so quickly, the participants themselves would be hard-pressed to recall the events in precise chronological order afterward. Marshall Matt Dillon, with gritted teeth and hellfire in his eyes, whipped out his pistol and buffaloed the offensive ruffian on his ignorant head, making him drop to the floor like a lead weight. Matt grabbed Kitty with his left arm as she emitted a surprised little squeal before the aforementioned ruffian could drag her down with him, possibly injuring her. Then Matt neatly twirled his gun in his right hand, pointing the business end at Raefort, just in case. Raefort hastily raised his hands high in the air. "I…I…I…I told 'im, Marshal. I told 'im to do what you said. Me, I ain't stupid like Lonnie. Is he dead? Did you kill 'im? Our ma will kill _me_ if I done took Lonnie to Dodge and got 'im kilt."

Matt sighed heavily. Just another day in his life.

Then the young lawman became acutely aware that he was still holding Kitty flush against his left side—had he crushed her too tightly in his urgent rush to free her? But, oh, it felt so…so fine to have her pressed against him like that and to have her safe for just a passing moment. He could detect that she was trembling, just a little, so he figured that she might be okay with him holding her as well.

Matt had to take a few calming breaths before he could speak. He holstered his weapon. "Your brother's not dead but he's gonna have a whale of a headache when he wakes up. Raefort, I'm only gonna tell you this once. You understand? So listen closely." Matt loosened his grip on Kitty's waist, smoothed his hand comfortingly from her side to the small of her back, and he never gave one thought to who was watching. "You take this son-of-a-bitch brother of yours, throw him across his saddle and get the hell outta Dodge. Don't you ever come back. Cause if you do, I'm gonna beat him to within an inch of his life." Matt felt Kitty's arm tighten around the back of his waist.

"Yessir, we're leavin' now, Marshal. Sorry to bother you, miss."

Kitty stared silently at Raefort, unwilling to take out the anger she felt for his brother on him.

Matt added gruffly, "And tell that ma of yours she needs to teach her son some manners."

"Yes, Marshal…"

They watched as Raefort dragged Lonnie across the plank floor and out of the Long Branch, feet first.

The young cowboy previously sleeping alongside his bottle of Old Crow had mutely watched the incident play out. Eyelids at half mast, he finally spoke up with a slurred, "Serves 'im right. Immmpolite…bastard." Then he promptly fell headfirst onto the table again, snoring ferociously.

Red spoke up from behind the bar. "Awful glad you were here, Marshal. I might've had to shoot the young rascal. Much better your way."

Matt grimaced. "Yeah, especially if you'd shot Kitty if your aim was bad."

Red quickly bobbed his head, eyes stricken. "Hadn't thought of it like that. You're a smart man, Marshal Dillon. Smart man. Good to have a lawman like you in a rough and tumble town like Dodge City."

Kitty looked up at Matt, still within his embrace, her face genuinely relieved yet tempered with levity. "Yeah, good to have you around, Marshal."

Matt's eyes widened when he glanced down, and he decided he'd better let go of Kitty. The fancy pants cigar smoker was eyeing them with decided curiosity. Matt loosened his one-armed bear hug and took a step away from her, shoving his hands into his pockets as he queried, "You alright, Miss Russell?"

Her blue eyes beamed up at him as she answered, official-like, "Oh, I'm fine, Marshal Dillon. I'm used to characters like that, you know." She shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes. "Anyway, you heard the boy. I ain't nuthin' but a—"

Matt cut her off, urgently whispering, "Kitty!"

Kitty appeared surprised at his outburst. "What's the matter?"

He looked for Red but thankfully the barkeep had begun a game of cards with the cigar smoker. Matt hoped the two hadn't heard the exchange. "I… You…" Matt shook his head in frustration.

"I don't understand."

"Let's…let's talk. But in private, not right here."

"Alright, Matt. How about…" She glanced around. "Let's just go in the back office."

Matt took Kitty's arm this time, not trusting himself to touch her slim, lithe back, feeling the satin glide over her naked skin as she walked the short distance to the office door, hips gently swaying under her soft peach skirts. Just imagining it was making his breath come a little more quickly.

"Sit down, Matt," Kitty invited when she'd closed the door behind them. She leaned back against the paneled wood, arms folded across her stomach.

He turned an old ladderback chair around and straddled it, crossing his arms over the back. He liked this view. He could talk to her and admire her full-length all at the same time. She was frowning at him a little so he panicked at first, wondering if she could read his mind. "You okay, Kitty?"

"It takes more than a couple of brash, young…um, what did you call Lonnie?"

"Jackass?"

"Jackasses, to completely ruin my day." She planted her hands firmly on her hips and gave him a self-assured smile.

"I'm glad to hear that, Kitty. I've always thought you were a brave young woman." Brave and beautiful, he thought. Those eyes of hers were snapping in anger earlier, her cheeks crimson. She had fought that Lonnie like a tiger. But if that bastard had hurt one hair on her head, Matt would've been forced to shoot him right between his sorry eyes, no questions asked.

Suddenly Matt couldn't help but notice that the top button of Kitty's dress was threatening to come undone—by golly, it surely was. The dress had an impressively low neckline that showed off some of Kitty's most…becoming… physical attributes and four dainty little buttons down the front that Matt was pretty doggone sure he could never operate successfully with his own relatively large fingers. Below that, below her, uh, bosom…was an intriguing lace up area that reminded Matt of one of those corsets that Kitty had just been complaining about so vigor-

"Matt, are you even listening to a word I'm saying?" Kitty crossed her arms in front of that lovely bosom, breaking the hazy spell under which he had fallen.

"Course I am."

"Then what did I just say?" she demanded with a bemused expression.

He shoved his hat back, scratched his head, laid his hat on the desk, cleared his throat. "Uh…refresh my memory."

Kitty rolled her eyes a little and then repeated, "I said, 'you were the one who wanted to talk in private, so now what is it that you wanted to talk about?' There. I'm sure you remember now." She glanced down at her dress where she noticed he had been staring, discreetly tugged the bodice a little higher and then smiled at him indulgently.

He had the good graces to blush and avert his eyes.

Then she bit her lip and got down to brass tacks. "Matt, you seemed a little upset with me out there. But I was only jokin'. Repeating what that troublemaking kid said."

"Kitty, I didn't find him funny in the least."

"Apparently not, because you cleaned his plow."

"Like our Sleeping Beauty out there suggested, Lonnie had it comin'."

Kitty slowly and deliberately walked over, slipped up onto a scarred wooden desk next to Matt, facing him. Earnestly she asserted, "He was only speakin' the truth."

"Don't say that, Kitty."

"Why not?"

"Because it makes me…angry when men treat you like that." Matt's face was a mask of warring emotions. "Because…because I don't want you to be treated badly and I… I think you're better than that, Kitty. You should think of yourself better, too. Don't say things like you were gonna say out there. Not even as a joke."

"You wouldn't clean _my_ plow, would ya'?" She was teasing, but her eyes were softly gleaming at him, and she gave him a sweet smile she reserved for special people. She reached over and laid her hand atop his, gently squeezing it. "You don't hafta answer that, Marshal."

"Always cuttin' up when I'm trying to be serious," he mock-sighed. But he took advantage of the moment and turned his hand over to squeeze hers back. Then he added quietly, "I… I'll kill a man who tries to hurt you, Kitty Russell. You know that, don't you?" The color rose in his face all the way to the tips of his ears and he couldn't look her in the eye, focusing on their hands instead.

Such revelations from this giant of a man on a sultry summer evening. It was either the 90-proof corn or the adrenaline talking. Kitty murmured speculatively, "My knight in shining armor?" She looked at his huge hand dwarfing her own. "You know…they broke the mold after they made you, Marshal Matt Dillon."

"Aw now, Kitty, there you go, funnin' me again," he quipped, but he also embraced her hand a little tighter, rubbing his thumb over the back. Her silky skin was so unlike his own rough, calloused hide.

"Not true. I'm not funnin' you, Matt Dillon." Her brow furrowed. "They don't make 'em like you anymore. I believe it with all my heart."

"With all your heart, huh?" Matt reluctantly released Kitty's hand, reaching up an arm to swipe a sleeve across his damp forehead. Then he quickly changed the subject away from himself. "Well, maybe when you fulfill some of those hopes of yours that we were discussing earlier, you won't have to worry so much about ornery young bucks comin' in here, causing a ruckus. I really don't like you endangering yourself, Kitty."

She sighed, "Matt, to tell ya' the truth, I just have a feeling that whatever my future holds, I'm not gonna rid myself of men like that. I think it's just in the cards for me. "

Kitty couldn't help but chuckle at the look of consternation that overshadowed Matt's face. "Come on, Matt, it's not the end of the world. Are you tryin' to get rid a' me or somethin'? Ship me off to Boston to work in a mill? Maybe you'd rather I sew in a dark, dingy dress factory back east until I can't see anymore and my fingertips are numb from needle sticks?"

Matt shook his head and opened his mouth, but Kitty was on a roll. She cut him off. "I know, I know…nearly every job has terrible disadvantages for a woman. But right now, I'd rather stay put here with this one. For my own particular reasons, mind you. One being, maybe I plan on movin' up in this business like I mentioned earlier. Ever think about that?" She stood, placing her fists on her hips, pressing her lips together firmly.

"Well, the thought had crossed my mind. After our little talk…earlier, Kitty." She was standing very close again and he couldn't keep his eyes from darting to that tiny top button that was nearly undone. It was quite distracting, but he was able to add, "Kitty, I'd do anything for you to, uh, to move up in this business."

"You would?"

"Of course, I would."

"Why?" Her voice was genuinely curious.

Matt had to force his eyes upward to look at Kitty's face to concentrate on this important discussion. "Why?" he repeated.

"Yes, I just asked you 'why?" Why do you want me to move up in the business?"

"Lots of reasons, Kitty."

"Name one."

Hell. This was a potentially messy conversation. He offered a safe explanation, "Well, you'd make more money."

"That's good, Matt. More money if I work my way up in the business. Okay, name another advantage to moving up."

Uh-oh. "You'd, uh, you'd probably have better working hours. You'd get to choose when you wanted to work."

"Yes, you're right. I'm sure I would. And…?"

By golly, she was like a dog with a bone. She was not going to let this go. "Well, Kitty, if you moved up the ladder, then…" He gave the top of his head a scratch.

"Then… **what**?"

He sighed. He looked at a spot on the wall past her shoulder and hemmed and hawed a little.

Kitty moved closer and asked, "What was that? I couldn't hear you."

Matt's cheeks colored and he looked at the ceiling this time. Clearing his throat, he repeated a little more loudly, considerably more ponderously, "Then you wouldn't have to go upstairs with a lotta strange men for a living."

She waited a tremulous moment before responding, "And exactly why does that matter to you, Matt?"

"Well…" Matt stared at his spot on the wall, searching desperately for a suitably benign answer.

"I'm waiting."

"I'm thinking."

"Apparently not hard enough. Why don't you want me with a different man every night, Matt? Or several men?" Kitty's cheeks flushed, too, and she was unable to look him in the eye. This was an uncommonly frank conversation they'd never attempted before. Delicate subject matter they'd always studiously avoided mentioning at all costs.

"Dammit, Kitty, because I don't want you to." His explanation was impetuous and yet impassioned, unyielding.

"Why not?" She demanded an answer.

"Well, because…it's dangerous." Matt removed his handkerchief from his pocket and swiped it across his face. It seemed to be getting hotter in here all the time.

"That's all? You don't want me doing this job because it's dangerous?" Kitty was reaching her exasperation point.

"That's one reason."

"What's another reason?"

"Another reason?"

"Yes, another reason." She snapped open her silk fan to cool her flushed face.

"You need another reason not to go upstairs with strange men besides the fact that it's very dangerous? Honey, what the hell other reason _do_ you need?"

"You know what reason. Stop playin' games with me, Matt Dillon. I want the truth."

"The truth is, I just cannot stand the thought of you goin' upstairs with strange men. I was fine with it at first, when I first met you, I mean. When we first became friends. Before I really…knew you." He massaged his temples with a thumb and forefinger of one hand. "But now… I just…am not."

Her brows lifted infinitesimally and she moved close to him again, placing a hand on his arm.

He continued, his voice earnest, "You're better than that, Kitty Russell. I want you to save yourself for something better." His insides turned to rhubarb jelly when her fingers touched his hair, gently fondling a wayward curl that had fallen onto his forehead. He added with insistence, "Someone who'll treat you better. With the respect you deserve. Someone who'll treat you like a lady, Kitty." He involuntarily shuddered with pleasure when her nails raked through his hair, across his scalp. She never touched him like this and it was addling his thinking.

The corners of her mouth turned up tenderly. She leaned over and whispered, her breath brushing his ear, "Someone like a knight in shining armor, maybe?"

A crooked half-smile flitted across his dazed features. "Maybe."

"Have you always had the annoying habit of giving non-answers to women?"

"Sometimes."

"Matt Dillon, you are such a…" She placed her hands on her hips in feigned exasperation.

"A what?' He raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"I don't know yet." She dropped her arms. "When I do, I'll let you know."

"I'll be lookin' forward to it." He gave a chuckle and rested his cheek on his fist, elbow propped on the back of the chair, gazing at his companion intently. "Kitty, honey, can you do that thing where you put your hands on your hips again? Maybe sashay around the room for me a little?" Her teasing and forthright questioning had emboldened the young marshal considerably, not to mention that he was anxious to shift the focus off himself again.

"If you don't stop calling me 'honey' you could give a girl the wrong idea, and… 'sashay around the room a little'? Matt Dillon, you are shameless! Why, I never heard of such a thing."

"Miss Russell, you're the one who didn't wear her, uh, unmentionables today, and, I gotta ask, did you do it just to drive me _loco_?" A devilish grin crossed his handsome features. He was enjoying the role of tease now.

"I most certainly did not. I didn't even know you'd be back in Dodge today, and I assuredly did not know it would drive you ' _loco'_ , as you so charmingly put it. What's that supposed to mean, anyway?"

"Oh, I think you know exactly what it means, Kitty Russell. Who's the one playing games now?"

"What on earth has gotten into you, Matt? Do you have a fever? I have no idea what the hell you're talkin' about."

"You don't know what I'm talking about? I think you know exactly what I'm talking about, Kitty. What this whole conversation tonight has been about…" He twirled one index finger in a small circle, his expression resolute. "This right here? And earlier in the bar, too… You, me, hopes…job changes…buttons…underwear or lack thereof…" He nodded his head matter-of-factly. "Yep. You know exactly what I'm talkin' about."

Kitty was struck speechless. Yes, this was a night for revelations all right. Maybe some of those hopes of hers would start to come to fruition sooner than she imagined…

Suddenly the young lawman's pale blue eyes focused raptly on his companion and his demeanor changed. His deep voice slowly, quietly demanded, "Take off your dress, Kitty."

A precisely manicured auburn brow rose toward her hairline as she gasped, caught completely by surprise…

tbc

ljljljljlj


	4. Chapter 4

Skip My Rounds Tonight

by Lilyjack

Chapter 4

or

"Smoldering Desire…It's Everything It's Cracked Up To Be"

A precisely manicured auburn brow rose toward her hairline as Kitty gasped, caught completely by surprise. "Did…did I hear you right? Marshal Dillon, did you just tell me to take off my dress? Is that an…official order?" She had made an attempt at appearing light-hearted, but her cheeks flushed scarlet and her breathing became distinctly irregular.

"You heard me." He swallowed hard, his voice lowering as he gazed at her with singular intent. He realized he wasn't kidding. "Take off your dress, Miss Russell." He couldn't believe the words were flying right out of his own mouth.

Her lips parted as she stared at him with something akin to astonishment, one hand unconsciously pressed to her bosom. "First of all, I think you really have gone _loco_ this evening. And second, why…what if, what if someone…?" She glanced at the door, unfurling her beaded silk fan to cool her overheated skin.

He quickly unfolded his long legs from the small ladderback chair to hurry over and fumble with the iron key in the lock, turning it and testing the doorknob. "You're safe in here with me…"

She fluttered her fan, giving a nervous laugh. "Ohhh…I think that's debatable, Marshal…"

"Miss Russell, I'll have you know my integrity is untarnished," he bantered.

"I'm not so sure. I've heard some of the stories from your old _compadres_ " was her saucy reply.

Matt allowed sheepishly, "Well, on second thought, maybe I _could_ use a little work..."

"A little work?"

"It'd only take someone like you to untarnish me in a hurry." His teasing tone had disappeared.

Kitty disputed, "You think a girl like me? Could untarnish you? Now that's a little bass-ackwards, don't ya' think?"

He was standing close, towering over her, and his next words emerged as plain-spoken and heartfelt as any she had ever heard. "Kitty Russell, I think you're tough as nails but fine as… Fine as silk. If that makes a lick a' sense. And I don't think it's a bit bass-ackwards. I think… I think maybe you would polish up a plain ole cowboy like me pretty well."

"Well, _**cowboy**_ …that may be…" Her expression softened and her shoulders relaxed as she cleared the lump from her throat. "…that may be one of the nicest things anybody ever said to me. Because I think you're a mighty fine man yourself, Matt Dillon."

"I'm just speakin' the truth." He touched her heated cheek. "But I'm still waitin'."

"Waitin'?" she whispered.

"Take off your dress for me, Kitty Russell."

Her blue eyes latched onto his. "I don't have on a single stitch underneath, Marshal Dillon."

His breathing was coming shallow and quick now. "I know. You told me all about it, remember?"

"I guess I did." She took a deep fortifying breath and looked at the ceiling. "You know we can't go back very well after this. Go back to just bein' friends."

"Maybe we can. Maybe we can't." He swallowed audibly. "Let's see what happens."

Her fingers touched the small top button, the half-unbuttoned one that Matt had been so transfixed by, on the front of her dress. "You sure?"

"Kitty, you… You know you've always been more than just an ordinary friend to me."

Her eyes widened the tiniest bit and she murmured, "I have?" She slowly pulled the satin covered button completely free of its embroidered hole.

His crystal blue gaze followed her every movement as he answered quietly, "I thought you knew that."

She stopped, looked down and fingered the next button thoughtfully. "A girl thinks she knows, but she can never be sure until a man... Well, I mean…you never _said_ you were…interested."

"Maybe I was a damn fool, Kitty." He watched with bated breath as she glanced up at him again, slowly unfastening three more delicate buttons. In the soft glow of the lamp, he could now detect the light and shadows of ripe, dewy, peach-colored flesh.

Reaching just below the small of her back, she languidly tugged at a large satin bow as it pulled free of its fancy knot. Gazing at him the whole while, she ventured in a breathy whisper, "I can't believe you're gettin' me outta my clothes in the back office of the Long Branch, Marshal Dillon. Do you do this kinda thing with all the girls?" She managed a playful expression on her face even though her voice trembled on the last word. "I mean, with all your 'prisoners'," she amended wryly.

"You know you're the only prisoner for me, honey." His waggish comment was undercut considerably by both his tender tone and ardent expression, and the anxious way he gripped his hat so tightly. Finally, he decided to abandon the Stetson he'd been holding in front of his pants onto the nearby desk so that she could observe the effect she, too, was having on him, the second time she'd done this to him in one single evening.

An auburn brow delicately lifted as she raised her eyes from his pants to his heated gaze. "Marshal, I realize I'm your prisoner and all, but there's no need to aim a loaded firearm at me like that." She offered him a seductive smile. "I'll go quietly."

But Matt Dillon was beyond teasing at that point and raked his splayed fingers feverishly through his damp riotous curls. "I wanna watch you undress, Kitty Russell. His tongue wet his full bottom lip before he spoke. "There are no other girls, honey. Haven't been for a long while now. They don't measure up to you. Take your dress off for me."

She seemed to be taken aback by his admission that he had no other women, but was distracted by the sound of Red laughing loudly outside in the bar. She crossed her arms, remarked quietly, "There are people outside that door, you know. You're sure it's loc—?"

He interrupted, stating with absolute equanimity, "I'll kill anybody with my bare hands who tries to set foot through this door." He proceeded to wiggle the locked knob, remove the key and drop it into his shirt pocket with finality. Then he crossed his muscular arms and leaned against the door jamb, speaking soft and low, "I won't let a soul in here, sweetheart, promise. It's just you and me."

He observed the surprise on her face when his endearment slipped out, seemingly from nowhere, but it had been so natural, meant just for her. He watched a soft radiance steal over her face and her lips curve into a gentle smile. That's when she finally reached for the ribbon that laced the front of her dress and she tugged the knot slowly, untying it as she watched him…watching her. One eyelet at a time, she pulled the silky lace free until nothing held the front of her dress in place except her hands clasping the peach-hued cloth together. She bit her bottom lip, contemplating the man who asked that she placed such trust in him, to lay herself bare before him. She perched on the edge of the desk and raised one foot in the air toward him wordlessly. He took the proffered foot in his two huge hands and slowly removed her black slipper.

His voice nervously filled the crackling air between them. "No boots tonight, huh? Let me guess. Too—"

Her voice joined his, "—hot." She offered him a coy look as she added, "Now you're catching on." She held up the second foot, and he obligingly removed the leather slipper, gliding his hands over her bare foot, making her shiver.

He reluctantly released her and she stood again and took a deep breath, reaching for the thin strap that went over her shoulder. "You are sure about this?" she asked, suddenly pensive, uncertain.

"No… Yes! I…Kitty, I don't think I've been more certain of anything in my entire life."

"Matt, I think I detected some waffling from you just then. I mean, you really are a mighty buttoned up man and I don't wanna…" She sighed and revealed almost regretfully, "I don't wanna ruin anything between us. You mean too much to me."

"No…no you didn't hear any waffling. Definitely not."

"You sure? Definitely not?"

"None. I believe you uh, you 'unbutton' me more than any woman I've ever met. And that's a fact. Besides, I would think the evidence would make it pretty obvious." His eyes flicked downward, his expression a mite embarrassed.

She paused, her eyes taking in his tall, broad-shouldered form from head to toe, this man she'd come to rely on as both the lawman who kept the town of Dodge safe to live in and also as a true friend and confidante. Now she was finally seeing a new side of him, laying his heart open for her. She liked this new, unbuttoned Matt Dillon more than she could say. She finally repeated, "No doubts, huh?" One slim, lightly freckled hand reached up and began slipping barely there straps down over a white shoulder. "Then what are we waiting for?"

Matt crossed his arms tightly over his chest again, once more leaning against the door, more for support for his spinning head than anything. His eyes were wide and he slowly lifted one large hand, chewing at a thumbnail to keep his hands busy, so he wouldn't touch himself while watching her, drinking her in…

…those white shoulders scattered with small, pale amber freckles were divested of their straps first. Most men wouldn't think much of exposed shoulders, but it was Kitty's creamy white shoulders she was offering to him, and the mere sight made Matt take deep breaths in and out, in and out, his chest tightening at their loveliness. But then there was more. She turned away and slipped the dress down until she was naked to the waist, a waist Matt could span within his grip. The smooth, gently curved plane of her back beckoned to him, but he managed to keep his hands to himself. Her arms were folded in front of her.

"Turn around." His gentle voice held a hint of a quaver.

She looked over one shoulder at him, eyes so blue and expression so guileless they made his chest ache. At last she turned and lowered her arms just enough for him to finally lay eyes on those beautiful, voluptuous breasts he'd been admiring beneath her pretty dresses for nearly three long years now. He was feeling positively light-headed, like he needed to sit down. Instead, he took several more deep breaths, leaning heavily against the door.

"Are you all right, Matt?"

Her sweetly concerned expression set against her half-naked body was nearly Matt's undoing. He felt as if his pants might catch on fire at any moment. His voice was strained, "I'm okay, honey."

"Maybe this will make you feel better."

And with that, peach-colored satin puddled in a heap at her feet, and it occurred to Matt, not for the first time that evening, that his poor head might explode. Over his lifetime, he had seen his share of mighty attractive, sensuous young women-clothed, unclothed, both live and also in paintings, albeit mostly hanging over bars. But he believed with all his heart, as she might say, that Kitty Russell was an unmatched beauty in face and figure and inner loveliness most of all. But tongue-tied and overwhelmed with his feelings, all he could manage to spit out was, "You're the most…beautiful woman I've ever seen…in all my life, Kitty…"

But Kitty was astonished. Usually the highest praise she elicited from Matt was, "You're lookin' mighty pretty tonight." Her breath caught in her throat at such near-poetry from the normally prosaic Matt Dillon.

He continued hesitantly, "…more beautiful than I ever imagined."

She visibly shivered at his eyes raking over her even as they had countless times before. But it had always been in the company of others and she had been wearing clothing, many layers of it, come to think of it. Not standing before him stark naked, his covetous gaze feasting upon her. Her voice nearly failed as she spoke, the words emerging in a curious whisper, "You…imagined me?"

He shifted his big, booted feet anxiously but then looked her earnestly in the face and replied, "Kitty, after a long day of dealing with stuffed shirt politicians, know-it-all businessmen and drunken, dusty, filthy cowboys…"

She took a small step closer and urged him, "Go on…"

"…and I… I look forward to coming in here to your pretty, smiling face and a friendly greeting..."

Peachy-pink lips curved into a gentle smile, her eyes glowing. "Yes?" she quietly encouraged. Dillon wasn't one for sweet talk and this was more pure revelation. He was laying his heart bare for her. "You said you imagined me?"

His broad chest drew in a big breath and courage to speak his mind. "…And your soft, sweet-smelling skin. Those pretty dresses you wear, Kitty, they can make a man…" His Adam's apple bobbed once, then twice. "…a little weak in the knees. Did you know that?"

"Nuh-uh." She shook her head, mutinous little red curls framing her face. She spoke almost shyly. "Nobody ever put it quite like that before." She took another step forward. "Especially not an upstanding man like you, Matt. That means something to a girl like me."

"How could I not imagine you, Kitty? You make a fella's imagination run wild. I… I just…" His throat ran dry and he just didn't know what else to say. The normally reticent lawman had exhausted his poetic potential.

Kitty rescued him with her softly-spoken words, "I know, Cowboy …"

"Take your hair down for me."

"It's… It's a mess already because I'm so hot and sweaty, Matt, and…"

"Kitty, you're arguing with me standing there naked, for Pete's sake. You're the most…the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life...I… Please…just take your hair down for me, honey. I really wanna see that long, red… Oh, yeah…thank you, Kitty. That's what I wanted to see, those curls falling over your shoulders…and…with your arms, uh, lifted like that, your, uh…figure is…oh, honey…"

"You like it, Matt?"

He strangled out, "Yep…"

She took another tiny step toward him, raking riotous hair from her eyes, looking at him…waiting.

At last he hoarsely voiced, "I wanna touch you…"

He nervously scrubbed his hand over his lower face, stubbly with whiskers, but this time she saw in his heated regard so much more than she had before. "Can I touch you, Kitty?" He watched a shiver run through her body starting at her shoulders, and it pleased him to no end that his words could do that to her.

"Yes, you can touch me," she whispered. "I won't break."

"You sure you want me over there?" He uncrossed his arms and turned a little, attempting to adjust his pants unobtrusively. "With you?"

"Oh, I'm positive. No doubts."

One very large, dusty, worn leather Justin took a tentative step toward her, ardor roiling from every pore in the owner's body.

She tucked her long hair behind an ear and beckoned with a sultry voice, "Come closer…Marshal."

He took the remaining four steps to bring them within a few small inches of each other. She had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye, her unruly hair spilling over her shoulders and down her back. His powerful hands, rock steady during gunfights with vicious outlaws, trembled a little now. He reached down and slipped one hand around her waist to the small of her back, the intimate curve he allowed himself to touch in public. Flattening his palm against it now, the warm, velvety smoothness of her naked skin made him ache. Reaching up with his other hand, he caressed her hot cheek with the backs of his fingers, unwilling to touch her sensitive skin with his rough callouses. He released a breath he didn't realize he was holding when she suddenly spoke, surprising him.

Her expression was earnest and tender. "I've always known, in spite of how tough you've gotta be in your job, that at heart you're a very gentle man, Matt Dillon. I see it in you all the time, every day, whenever you—"

He cut off any further observations when he bent down and kissed her neck, right below her ear, so softly and reverently it took her breath clean away. He lifted a lock of flaming red hair, smoothed it against his lips and lifted it to his nose, inhaling the scent. His voice was low, "I don't know as anyone's called me a gentleman before. Not so's they meant it anyway."

"There's a first time for everyth-"

Ardently, he had leaned over again and trailed his lips down her slim neck and across her shoulder, halting her ability to complete her sentence. His days-old beard stubble played a virile counterpoint against her delicate, sensitive flesh, even while his tender mouth grazed a path down her inner arm, the palm of her hand and even her fingers. Kitty watched and shivered with pleasure at his touch. Matt Dillon was slowly but surely building a fire low in her belly.

"So soft…" he murmured, kissing the hollow of her throat with his generous lips and tasting her with the tip of his tongue. "I want to kiss every inch of you…"

Sighing, she closed her eyes and bit her lower lip, waiting for him to make the journey down, down, to where her peach-pink rosebuds were drawn tight, aching for his attention. At long last she felt his hot breath on one, then his eager mouth, warm and wet, closed around it, suckling and kissing until her belly burned hot. He showered her breasts with fiery, passionate kisses, whispering sweet words against her overheated skin while her fingers threaded through his tousled hair. With a groan, he grasped her by the waist, quickly sat her on the desk and began kissing his way down her naked belly until she felt as if she were truly molten.

Suddenly there was a loud crash. From outside the door, furniture splintered and glass broke. Kitty's eyes widened and she moaned in frustration.

Narrowing his eyes, Matt hissed, "Dammit!" Then he raised one determined index finger in the air and declared, "Don't move-I'll handle it." He stood, gave his hair a quick run through with both hands, then prepared to open the door.

"Hold it!" It was Kitty, handing him his hat to use as camouflage. She placed one hand on a lovely naked hip, glancing pointedly below Matt's waist and observing a bit breathlessly, "Matt, I hafta say, that's mighty admirable staying power you've got there." She bit her lower lip and smiled. "But I suppose it goes hand in hand with your remarkable recuperative abilities Doc's always goin' on about."

Matt opened his mouth to remonstrate, but decided he didn't have time. He charged out the door instead, hat preceding his pants.

Kitty listened from inside the door. What followed was a bit of shouting and a crash of broken glass, then a thud as if someone had hit the floor. Afterward, complete silence. Finally, she detected quiet discussion. She was dying to open the door and peek outside to see what had happened, worried to pieces about Matt.

She needn't have worried. Within two minutes Matt strode back into the office and tossed his Stetson on the desk.

"Kitty, I hope you don't mind, but I told Red to close things up and head home."

"Why no, but what about…"

"Red says that young drunk woke up and headed back home a little while ago, so I don't hafta put him up in jail for the night." Matt leaned against the door again, crossing his arms and fairly devouring her with his eyes.

The way his gaze raked over her made her body shiver, but it made her sex burn. It was difficult to have a conversation with him looking at her like that. "That's good, so…"

"And I just knocked a young buck on his ass for tryin' to start a ruckus with Fancy Pants in there. The troublemaker'll be repaying the damages for furniture and glassware."

"Um…Bill will appreciate…"

"Have I told you lately you're the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on?"

Her brow raised yet again. She'd lost count how many times she herself had been knocked on her ass by Matt Dillon this evening, thankfully just figuratively and for different reasons entirely. It had been a night of surprises. "So…what's next, Marshall Dil-?"

"Come 'ere, Kitty." He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her flush against him. Leaning over her, he captured her mouth with his own, kissing her and kissing her, his eager hands caressing her smooth, flushed, naked skin, those generous curves he'd always admired from afar, until she couldn't breathe. She gasped, pulled away, unbuttoning his shirt, pushing it off one broad shoulder, raining kisses on his chest, her hungry hands gripping the strong, corded muscles of his shoulders, her nails raking across his back beneath his shirt. She reached down between them, fingers at his waistband, tugging at his button fly.

He groaned and reached to still her hand. "Not here, Kitty." He shrugged his shirt back over his shoulder and began rebuttoning it, shoving it back down into his pants.

She was speechless, simply staring up at him with kiss-swollen lips, flushed faced and tousled hair.

He couldn't resist and gave her another sweet, suckling kiss on her full mouth, smoothing her hair back from her temple. "I want to take you upstairs and do this right. That okay with you?"

She wore a look of amazement on her face. She had truly won the jackpot when she'd stumbled upon this man, thinking to herself she had better hang on to him for all she was worth and never let him go.

He cradled a hand around her neck, stroking one soft pink cheek with his thumb. "Only one problem… I've still got rounds to do."

She meaningfully glanced down again at his painfully tight britches.

Clearing his throat, he shifted his stance. "You've gotta point there." His eyes raked heatedly over her once more. His hands cupped her face. "Tell you what. I'm skippin' my rounds tonight. I'm gonna go roust Chester outta bed and tell him to earn his pay, by golly. I'll lock the door behind me, but I'll be back in five minutes…or maybe less. Don't you dare get dressed cause I'm gonna carry you up those stairs and take you to bed proper, you hear me?"

She was rendered speechless again. Matt Dillon essentially side-stepping his duty and passing it along to Chester? Would wonders never cease?

He took her silence as assent. "Good. I'll be back lickety-split. Faster than that even."

Finally, she found her tongue. In a seductive tone, she reminded him, "Don't forget your hat, Cowboy. May need it for camoufl-"

Narrowing his eyes at her, he gave a low growl deep in his throat, grabbed her hungrily and proceeded to kiss her, over and over once more, his hands roaming over her lavish curves and sweet valleys until she whimpered wantonly.

He pulled away, breathing hard. "Sweet Jesus, Kitty, you make me feel like…" He raked a hand through his mussed hair. "I've gotta go take care a' business. Five minutes, sweetheart. But I'll be right back."

She attempted to calm her breathing, looked Matt steadily in the eye. "I know you will."

"Promise me you'll wait right here."

"I'll wait for you, Matt."

"That's my girl…"

tbc

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	5. Chapter 5

Skip My Rounds Tonight

by Lilyjack

Chapter 5

 _My sincere, deepest apologies that Matt's "five minutes" actually extended such a stupendously outlandish length of time, but came home from work and went straight to bed with a migraine that lasted for a few days. Those suckers really throw a monkey wrench into the best laid plans of mice and marshals. Also, my apologies for being awful behind in my thank-you PM's for all the incredibly kind reviews that readers have left for this little fic - a quick throwaway tale that was supposed to be teeny tiny short, but as usual Matt and Kitty took over the storyline and expanded it to such ridiculous proportions as to require chapters. Those two kids whisper their dialogue to me and I just type it up for them, and sometimes they simply will not shut up for love nor money. (Go on ahead and call me crazy—I'm already well aware of the fact.) And while I'm at it, I'd like to thank the "guest reviewers" whom I cannot thank personally with a PM because they don't have an account here-bah humbug. I have thoroughly enjoyed reading all the charming, amusing, heartfelt, thoughtful and downright entertaining reviews that every last one of you has posted. I feel like we come together as a community when we share our love for something as simple yet magical as a near two-decade romance tv producers never blatantly depicted for us viewers on the small screen. But then, if they had, we wouldn't all be here today, writing and reading and enjoying fics about what we know was going on behind Matt and Kitty's closed doors, due to the consummate actors' subtle expressions and intimate touches, the sweet embraces and provocative innuendos. A viewer who can't see it is simply not paying attention._

 _And I really and truly am sorry it took Matt more'n five minutes to get that boy Chester outta bed to do rounds for him so he could get back to his beautiful, nekkid, ready and waitin' Kitty in the back office of the Long Branch. To tell the truth, I had originally left the rest of the evening up to the reader's imagination, but after reading the reviews I felt that you all might be expecting a tad bit more sweet honey on yer steamin' biscuit, so for the first time ever, I had to get to work and add a scene or two or three…or four… to this here fic to keep from cheating readers out of the fun they were hoping for. I have *never* done such a thing before and I 'bout busted a blood vessel trying to rearrange all those paragraphs and titles and chapter numbers and file names and… I don't wanna try that again, not never. Anyway, there's two extra chapters now. Woo. I hope you like it. "Forevermore, Mr. Dillon, why don't we just hush up now and git back t' whut we come here for?"_

Skip My Rounds Tonight

by Lilyjack

Chapter 5

or

"Bare Necessities: What's Good for the Goose…?"

Matt Dillon gazed at the prairie moon through heavy-lidded eyes, adjusting his blanket and sighing happily. What an old fool he was, revisiting his younger years. But it had done the trick, just like always. Whenever his mind was in a turmoil, he only had to think of his sweetheart to help calm him.

Yep, they had been right amorous in those early days, he reminisced. They'd stolen moments of passion whenever possible, sometimes making love into the wee hours of the morning, just like they had that very first time he'd sweettalked her out of her pretty dress in the back office. That night had been special, by golly—he'd kept his promise and skedaddled back to her in record time after rousting an unhappy Chester out of bed to do rounds.

Matt would never forget that night as long as he lived. He couldn't account for the utter brazenness of his actions either - the normally taciturn and steadfast U.S. Marshal behaving so rashly, speaking so openly about his feelings… He guessed he could blame it on the two beers and overly generous shot of strong bourbon he'd consumed in rapid succession immediately prior. Or he could just chalk it up to being drunk with love for one helluva beautiful woman who had spirit in spades and savvy to boot. Or perhaps it was the lack of ladies' unmentionables that sparked the Dutch courage fueled by the alcohol that blazed up red-hot in that cramped, steamy back office with Kitty Russell so close to him he could count the freckles on her dewy skin and smell her perfume and the rosewater she washed her hair with earlier that night. Yep, that was probably what finally did it alright.

Matt had thought he might have to dynamite Chester awake, arms and legs dangling off the small cot, softly snoring in his red union suit, long, lanky hair hanging over his forehead.

"Well, forevermore," Chester had finally mumbled as he exhibited the first signs of consciousness, sleepily wiping a hand over his face, eyes popped open wide.

Matt offered Chester a quick excuse, muttering indistinctly about needing to see a man about a horse or some such nonsense, knowing Chester wouldn't remember it in his half-awake state. Well, Matt had never heard such bellyaching and complaining out of his assistant, albeit low-key and respectful, of course, for having to abandon his soft bed in the middle of the night.

Matt, visions swirling through his head of the passionate girl waiting for him in the saloon office, urgently moved things along by handing Chester his pants, even helping him hurriedly button his shirt to the wiry man's considerable annoyance. As soon as his yawning assistant awkwardly pulled his boots on his feet, Matt jammed Chester's hat on his head, slapped his friend on the back and sent him on his way with his heartfelt thanks. Matt watched him for a moment, hitch-stepping down the boardwalk, elbow akimbo scratching absently at his ribs through his crookedly-buttoned shirt, muttering tiredly to himself. Sighing, Matt then took off in the opposite direction at a lightning pace for Kitty Russell and the Long Branch.

Matt swore that he'd made it back in about four minutes flat. He knew for certain he'd never seen Chester get dressed so fast as long as he'd known him. The young marshal peered around Front Street, nervous as a cat, as he wrangled the cast iron key Kitty had given him into the front lock of the saloon, silently cursing his fumbling fingers. Finally, the large outer doors gave way with a whoosh. Checking the seemingly deserted street cautiously again to make sure no one had observed him, he closed the heavy wooden doors firmly behind him and turned the ornate key in the lock once more. There was only one dim lantern sitting on a table remaining to light the barroom, casting his looming shadow high on the wall. Striding purposefully to the office door, he hoarsely whispered, "Kitty, open up!"

Silence.

"Kitty, it's me. Open up!" A small icicle of doubt plunged deep into his chest. Had she left? Had she changed her mind – decided she could do better than a fifty dollar a month cowtown marshal when she had bigger plans for herself?

He saw a shadow flit in the beam of light beneath of office doorway. "Kitty?" he whispered hopefully.

"Who is it?" a husky, feminine voice whispered back.

"Aw, Kitty…" he began with much relief and some little vexation, "you know darn well who it is out here. I'm back for you, just like I…"

And with that, the door swung wide and a very naked girl, the nakedest and the prettiest and the softest thing Matt had laid eyes on or touched in a blue moon – she just threw herself into his embrace, jumping up and wrapping her arms around his neck. He was taken aback by her ardent greeting, but rose to the occasion, encircling her body with his own strong arms, hugging her tightly to him, loving the feel of her warmth against him, his hands on her velvety skin. It was enough to make a grown man cry, not that Matt was the crying type. But then she whispered in his ear, "I was afraid you weren't comin' back, Marshal Dillon. I was afraid you'd gone ahead on those damn rounds."

One arm shifted so his hand was supporting her sweet, bare backside as she twined her long legs around his waist. She pulled a face, squeezing one eye shut as she tightened her thigh muscles and adjusted her stance around his gun belt and buckles. He stared in wonder at the bare-naked spitfire he held in his arms, as she absently blew a wayward red-gold curl off her forehead. And she wanted him? Good ol' straight-laced Matt Dillon? Well, he had been pretty good since he'd turned lawman, anyway. It was the most amazing feeling and a little overwhelming to be truthful. He felt that he'd met his match in this prairie wildflower.

Matt realized he'd been woolgathering again, and staring like a lovestruck schoolboy at the beauty in his arms to boot. Kitty was looking at him as if waiting for a response. Recalling she'd been upset that he might've gone on his nightly rounds instead of coming back for her, he cleared his throat and declared, "Kitty Russell, I promised you I'd be back in less than five minutes and I…"

"It was six and a half minutes!"

"You timed me?" His voice rose and cracked.

"Of course, I did! I was worried that you'd changed your mind. That you didn't want just a common saloon gir-…"

Matt stopped her with a firm kiss to the mouth. "Haven't I told you I don't want you talkin' like that about yourself? Never again, Kitty. Promise me."

She raked her fingers through her tousled hair and gauged the look in his eyes. Evidently, she found what she was searching for because she wound her arms around his neck tightly again, pressing her body even closer, until Matt's senses were fairly thrumming.

"I promise, Matt." Her breath brushed his ear and he couldn't help but caress her round, bare bottom that fit so perfectly in his hands as he held her straddling his waist. She whispered in his ear once more, "Will you kiss me again, Matt? Kiss me real slow like before, in the back office when I took my dress off for you?"

"I can't believe I asked you to do that, Kitty." He nuzzled her temple, brushing his full mouth against her skin slowly and gently, his face heating up at the memory of his audacity earlier in the back office.

"Me neither..." she answered, her quiet words trailing off into nothingness, her bluer than blue eyes hazy, gazing at the sensuous shadows their bodies cast on the wall.

He traced his soft lips down to the shell of her ear, making her shiver with his warm breath tickling, the tip of his tongue tracing the outline of its delicate shape. He could feel the gooseflesh rising on her skin and hear her humming her pleasure. He murmured, "And I can't believe you did it. I thought you might clean _my_ plow, Miss Russell." His eyes lingered appreciatively over the lovely, porcelain-skinned creature he held in his arms, the fingertips of one hand trailing slowly up and down the length of her spine.

"Sometimes a girl has to go to extreme measures to get what she wants outta life." She arched her back, tilted back her head and offered her parted lips for a kiss. Matt bent his face low, only too happy to oblige.

Suddenly, the front doors of the Long Branch rattled violently. Matt and Kitty shot an apprehensive look at one another, swearing in tandem. Matt quickly spotted a shadow moving in front of the stained-glass window. Red had neglected to lower all of the blinds before closing, and whoever was outside might be able to peer inside the saloon. Matt immediately dropped to the floor behind a table and chairs still clutching Kitty, a yelp of surprise accompanying her rapid and unexpected descent. He placed a hand over her mouth and pointed at the shadow through the window. He watched her expression of alarm slowly change – one eyebrow rising, lips pressing together. Matt peered up to discover what she was frowning at: the shadowy figure stooping, rubbing at the filmy glass with his sleeve, squinting to see into the Long Branch…was none other than Matt's trusty assistant, Chester Goode.

"Great horny toads!" Matt irritably spat. He turned to his companion, the sweet, sassy companion who now sat in his lap, naked as the day she was born, and for a moment he understandably became distracted, picking up the slow kissing she had requested, right where he had left off. And since he now no longer had to hold her in his arms, his hands were free to do some exploring of their own. He murmured hotly in her ear, "Kitty…you know, I had a dream one time that went a lot like this."

"Oh, Matt," she exhaled, clearly happy with his efforts. She began unbuttoning his shirt again, and didn't have too many left to go, she figured, since it had already been a three-button day.

The front door rattled again and both of them nearly jumped out of their skins, and Kitty didn't have too far to go in her situation. They froze as they heard the door creak open. What to do? Matt peeped around the edge of the table to spy Chester, pocketing a key and looking around curiously. Matt's assistant called out softly, "Hello? Anybody here?"

Matt put a finger to his lips and signaled for Kitty to stay down, to stay hidden, and Kitty shot him a look that clearly stated, _Well, what the hell else would you expect me to do?_ Matt shrugged, offering her a weak smile, then gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

Then he waited. He waited for Chester to turn in the other direction so that he could noiselessly spring up from his hiding place and hurriedly walk several paces away, as if he'd just emerged from the Long Branch office. Then he called out in feigned surprise, "Well, hey there, Chester. What're you doing here?"

"Mister Dillon! Why, I thought you was…"

"I am, Chester. Doing business right here in this office. The man was a saloon customer and we just borrowed the Long Branch office." Matt deftly steered Chester away from Kitty's hiding place, surreptitiously buttoning his shirt back up before it was noticed. "I thought you were doing rounds for me. How'd you get in here anyway?"

"I am doin' rounds, Mister Dillon. I'm checkin' all the houses and biznesses to make sure they're locked up tight fer the evenin'. But I saw the Long Branch still had a light burnin' and then I saw figgers movin' inside suspicious-like…"

"Oh, yep, that must've been kiss…kissin'…uh, Mr. Kissin'…ger. Mr. Kissinger. I believe that was his name, Chester, I believe it was." Matt rubbed his finger and thumb down either side of his mouth. There was no way even Chester would believe this load of horseshit.

"Kissinger? That's sure a funny name, ain't it? Where is he?"

"Oh, the deal for the horse fell through. You just missed 'im. Went out through the back way, Mr. Kissinger did. Front door is, uh, locked, y'see."

"Yeah, that's why I had t' use that key Bill Pence gave us here 'while back, a coupla' years ago, in case of a 'mergency. I guess you fergot about it, Mister Dillon. It was stuck back inna drawer. I guess I'll put it on a keyring so's we don't lose it ag'in."

"Good idea, Chester!" If Matt didn't get him out of here soon, Kitty, hiding twenty feet away, was going to skin his hide, not make sweet love to him. Matt put his arm around Chester's shoulders and guided him toward the door. "Say, I'm going to close things up here, and you go on and finish rounds for tonight. You're doin' a bang-up job of it, too. If I'd been robbing the place, you would've caught me dead to rights for sure." Matt gave him a smile as he ushered Chester out the door, and Chester grinned happily in return.

"You think so, Mister Dillon?"

"Yeah, but next time you suspect it might be a break-in, you might wanna bring a gun."

"Oh…well, okay… But, Mister Dillon, what about that…?"

"Night, Chester." Matt gave him a firm pat on the back, a gentle nudge out the door, and then shut and locked it firmly. Matt was careful to watch him hitch-step down the boardwalk, far away.

He turned around, sighing, and watched Kitty rise from her hiding place, her skin glowing golden in the lamplight. The shadow she cast on the wall was tantalizing as well. "Come 'ere, Kitty, away from that big picture window. I'm not sharing you with the whole town."

"There are those who might disagree with you." She slowly walked toward him, hips swaying hypnotically.

"Well, we'll just see about that, young lady."

"We will?" She stood close enough to feel the heat of his skin through his clothing. Her eager fingers began unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, pushed the cloth off one muscular shoulder, bathing his chest in soft, wet kisses while he threaded his fingers through her thick hair. Pulling his shirt from his waistband, she tugged it the rest of the way off his torso. Kitty took a step back to admire him. He had broad, muscular shoulders and arms and a wide chest, tapering to a trim waist and flat stomach. His skin was smooth and golden - not even his clothing could protect him from the harsh rays of the prairie sun. He was marked by a few scars that Kitty would consider badges of honor, marks of courage and heroism, for Matt Dillon acquired those wounds protecting the citizens he was pledged to serve. So those scars weren't unattractive to her. They were simply part of what made him the man he was. When she found her voice at last, she murmured, "You're the handsomest man I've ever met, Matt Dillon."

He glanced at the floor. He'd never really learned how to take a compliment well. And that was one hell of a compliment coming from the beautiful woman standing in front of him right now. All his life, he'd mostly just ignored compliments or changed the subject as a general habit. But this time, he felt his ears growing warm, and he shoved his hat forward to hide his face a little. "You're just sayin' that, Kitty. You want me to…?"

"And I just gotta make this observation, Marshal." She leaned forward, wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her soft curves against his naked abdomen for the first time.

He let out a hissing breath at the contact, grasped her head gently in his hands and leaned down to capture her lips in that slow, lazy kiss he'd been promising.

But she stopped him with an index finger across his mouth. She sang softly and gleefully, "You're not wearin' any underwear, Marshal Dillon."

"Whatta you mean, woman? I'll have you know…"

"Don't try to fool me." She gave a suckling kiss to his chest and then turned her most sparkling smile up to his face. "Look, Cowboy, I just removed your shirt and there's no sign of a union suit. See?" She gave his tight pink nipple the gentlest of nibbles. "No underwear there. Just my handsome man's skin. How'd that feel, by the way?"

"Kitty! Why are you askin' me questions like that? You shouldn't… We shouldn't… How do you know I don't have on drawers?!"

"I'll have you know that no self-respecting man goes without his underwear, top and bottom, Matt Dillon, U.S. Marshal." She tiptoed and wrapped her arms around his neck, grinning, eyes twinkling.

"Yeah, well, it was hotter'n hell out there today." He frowned, but his hands were busy stroking the sassy-mouthed girl snuggling up against him.

"Tell me about it…" Her face looked as though she would burst into laughter at any second.

"And just because I don't have on an undershirt does not mean…"

"Oh yeah, well, let's just get to the bottom of this real quick," she stated flatly. "Take off your pants."

"No!"

Taking a step back, Kitty crossed her arms and gazed at him. "Matt, I really like it when you put your hands on your hips like that. The muscles in your arms are so…"

"Kitty! Honey! You quit that!"

Kitty threw herself into his arms for the second time that night, laughing quietly against his chest, hugging him tightly. She kissed that broad chest and asked mischievously, "You need some help?" as her nimble fingers unfastened the top of his button fly.

"Whoa, wait!" he whispered. "Honey, are there…people upstairs?"

"Um, yep…"

"What?!" He grabbed his abandoned shirt off the floor and threw it around her shoulders.

"Matt…" she protested as he unceremoniously stuck her arms in the sleeves. They dangled far below her fingertips as she held them up before her. "It's just the other girls…" Matt buttoned several of the buttons on the front of the shirt. "And, uhh…maybe some of their boyfriends, and maybe some customers who pay for the whole night. Men sometimes do that, you know."

Matt, who was busy straightening the huge shirt on Kitty's slim shoulders so nothing important hung out, suddenly stood straight up and looked her in the face. "Kitty, I wish you wouldn't tell me things like that. Information like that will only serve to make me _loco_ , but not in a good way."

"Sorry, Matt." She had sobered, standing there looking very small in his huge shirt. "You wanna… You still wanna go upstairs with me?" She waited quietly, chewing on a thumbnail.

"Course I do. I've wanted to go upstairs with you as long as I've known you, pretty much. Okay, always, Kitty. But…I just didn't… I just didn't have the guts to."

"But you're the bravest man I know, Matt."

"Not when it comes to you, Kitty."

"I'm sure glad you found it. Your courage, I mean. Cause I don't know if I could wait a minute longer to find out whether you're wearin' drawers under those jeans or…"

Kitty squealed out loud, laughing when Matt swept her up in his arms with a low, guttural growl and began scaling the steps to the second floor. She captured his mouth in a hungry kiss, her nails scratching lightly at the naked skin of his back, her fingers kneading the tight muscles. He stumbled at the overwhelming sensation, but managed to recover and set her down on the stair gently. Looking up at him, she grabbed him by the waistband and pulled him down to meet her. His hat fell to the floor and rolled two steps down while they kissed and kissed until they were both breathless.

A noise from one of the rooms made them freeze. Bed springs squeaking, footsteps walking across the floor. They had left the lantern burning downstairs. Could they be spotted here on the stairs if someone looked outside their bedroom door?

Matt urgently hissed, "Let's make a run for it!"

Kitty bobbed her head in agreement, shoving her lengthy sleeves up her arms and tucking her hair out of her face.

Matt directed, "On the count of three…One…two…three!"

tbc

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	6. Chapter 6

_And to think, Chester bumbled his way into this story only by popular demand of the readers. Silly me never thought to have him throw a monkey wrench in Matt and Kitty's monkey shines. Being a Chester fan, I feel like an idjit for not coming up with that twist my ownself. Of course, it never occurred to me either that you'd be expecting to hear the rest of Matt Dillon's spicy, heart melting, romantic first night ever with the girl of his dreams, our heroine the beautiful spitfire Kitty Russell. But that makes me the most boneheaded, lackbrain fanfic writer of all time then, doesn't it? Please don't answer that. It was a rhetorical question. So here is the end of it. Well, the end of Matt and Kitty's First Night. And then there are three more chapters to go. Hope you enjoy it. Oh, and dear Reviewers, I love you. You make my hobby entertaining and rewarding as opposed to silent (chirp, chirp!), pointless, and depressing. I hope to have time for PMing those of you with accounts...maybe after the dust settles from this fic that exploded on me._

Skip My Rounds Tonight

by Lilyjack

Chapter 6

or

"Virtuoso Matt Plays Kitty Like a Violin"

When we last left our heroes: Matt directed, "On the count of three… One…two…three!"

Kitty and Matt both sprang nimbly to their feet, rushing up the steps towards Kitty's room. But one of the pair turned and hurried back - for that abandoned Stetson that had fallen and lay two stairsteps down. Kitty's hand latched onto it and she was three paces behind the marshal when Olive's door squeaked open. Matt had just slid safely out of sight into Kitty's room.

Olive, her hair in rag curlers and wearing a cotton nightgown, stopped her with an accusing tone, "What're you doing downstairs at this hour? And you ain't even dressed either! Huh!"

Kitty tried to remain firm but calm, "Olive, it's really none of your…"

"Whose hat you got there? And whose shirt you wearin'?" The tall, skinny woman narrowed small dark eyes at Kitty. "Who you got in that room with you? He must be a big spender to keep Kitty Russell all night long. I don't know as the last time I saw you with…"

Kitty lost her temper. Her tone was sharp. "Olive, I'll thank you to mind your own business. That should be a full-time job all by itself. Good night!" Kitty stalked the remaining distance to her bedroom and shut the door. Matt had been quick—he had already lit a lamp with matches left on the table, and the room was bathed in soft light.

Kitty's face was stormy. She had really wanted to slam the door, but she didn't dare to wake anyone else. "Oh, that Olive, she makes me so…"

Matt backed Kitty up against the wall, grasped the hat from her hands and tossed it onto a hook behind the door, murmuring, "We don't have time for that nosy battle-ax Olive tonight, honey. I got more important things on my mind." He tilted his head, nuzzled her hair, inhaled the delicate fragrance of rosewater.

Her eyes drifted shut while he sniffed the perfume behind her ear, drew her hair aside to inhale the fragrance she'd applied at the nape of her neck hours earlier, never dreaming by day's end she'd be standing half dressed with Matt Dillon trying to love her all up.

His hot breath tickled her ear when he added, "Thanks for rescuin' my hat, by the way. I owe you one. Now…" He slowly unbuttoned her shirt, _his_ shirt, one button at a time, observing her expression as he worked, watching her breath quicken with each loosened button until it dangled open and Matt could see every inch of her again. Then he lifted her wrists over her head and held them firmly against the wall with one of his huge hands. "…where were we?" He took her chin gently in his grasp.

She swallowed hard. "Kissin' me real slow?"

"Like this?" He tasted her lips oh-so-briefly, the tip of his tongue touching hers for an instant.

"Oh," she sighed. "More…?"

"How about this?" He deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping languorously, hotly into her mouth, his lips searching hers, sliding, tasting, so lazily. Matt Dillon had all the time in the world.

"Oh…Matt…" She gazed up into his eyes, her expression one of pure intoxication. She couldn't move, couldn't speak words beyond his name.

"That's what I like to hear." He smoothed her long hair behind her ear. "Lemme kiss you some more, honey. I like hearing my name when you say it like that."

Matt Dillon proceeded to kiss the ever livin' daylights out of Kitty Russell, sweetly and leisurely, tantalizing her and teasing her. With his free hand he artfully caressed and touched, kneaded and stroked until she was calling his name over and over…and she hadn't even gotten the man entirely naked yet.

"Oh…Matt…"

"Matt…"

"Matt!"

"What, honey?"

"Take off your pants."

"But…I'm a little busy right now." He stopped kissing a particularly voluptuous curve to glance up, noticing her lovely face was damp with perspiration, her cheeks stained crimson with arousal.

"Now," she ordered breathlessly. "Take off your pants now. Because if you don't, it's gonna be all over for me real soon, and you will be making love to an unconscious woman. No, don't look at me like that. I'm not kidding. Stop touching me. If you keep doing what you are doing…ohh…oh, Matt, just like that…I will be completely exhausted ten minutes from now and I'll just fall asleep. Has anyone ever told you…ohh myyy…that you are _real_ talented?"

"Unh-uh…I'm just a man who enjoys his work." He hadn't even stopped what he was doing to talk to her, so he was fast making a believer out of Kitty.

"Matt, oh…you're not listening to me. I don't think I can stand up anymore, Cowboy. I'm feeling a little…oh my goodness…swimmy-headed…"

"You've been hangin' around Chester too long."

"Did you hear me, Matt? I think my knees…givin' out on me…ohh…there's that thing you do…Matt…please…"

"Come 'ere, Kitty. I think it's high time I took you to bed." And he swept her up again in his arms, one beneath those shaky knees of hers, carrying his sweetheart to the bed with her head on his shoulder, laying her down as gently as he would a child. He stood back, rubbing his hand over his flat belly, then scrubbing a hand over his stubbled lower jaw as he contemplated her. "If ya' don't mind, I'd like my shirt back now." He intoned, "You look a heap better in it than me, but I believe you'd look best wearin' nothin' at all right now, Miss Russell."

She complied, stripping off his garment and handing it to him, reclining with her back propped up on pillows. He followed her every movement, his tongue wetting his full bottom lip, and goosebumps rose on her flesh.

He tossed the shirt onto the dresser, and balancing his impressive form into a relatively small chair nearby, he pulled off his boots and socks, watching her…savoring her the entire time he worked…until the hunger in his eyes sent a shiver running down her spine.

He murmured quietly, "You want this, too, don't you, Kitty?"

She nodded. Her words emerged as a mere whisper, "I want this bad, Matt." Swallowing hard, she searched his face and continued uncertainly, "Do you think I'm bad for saying it? I don't believe I'm like the girls you're used to-…"

Matt hurriedly stood and brushed a finger against her lips. "But I'm not _with_ any of those other girls. For a reason. I like you. I want you, Kitty."

She raised up on one elbow. "You sure? You still got time to back out, ya' know."

Matt scratched his bare chest, looking pointedly at the ceiling. Then he attempted to inconspicuously adjust his uncomfortably tight pants. Finally, he answered, looking back down at her lying atop the bedcovers. "Honey, I told you once before, I've never been more certain of anything in my life." He planted his hands firmly on his hips. "But if I don't get ahold of you pretty soon, you layin' there lookin' like that, I'm gonna..."

"Take off your britches, Mister." She was biting that thumbnail again, grinning behind it this time, big blue eyes sparkling with happiness.

Matt grumbled, jerking off his gun belt and trouser belt, hanging them on a hook behind the door with his hat, like they were meant to hang there together all along. He demanded with mock severity, "How did you manage to get two of my buttons undone without so much as touching my belt buckle?"

"Curiosity? I just wanted to see if you were wearing…"

"You know what they say about curiosity and kitties, honey." He jerked his tight pants down over his hips, ripped them down his long legs. Kicking them across the room, he scrubbed a hand through his thick, curly hair, waiting.

She bit her bottom lip, gazed up at him through thick lashes. His breathing quickened as he watched her hand trail down the length of her body to slip through the auburn curls crowning her sex. "My, my, Marshal," she crooned in a sultry voice. "What an…impressive gun you've got there…"

Matt started to fuss at her for teasing him, then decided to play along. "Honey, it ain't even locked and fully loaded yet."

His cocky grin sent an auburn brow arching toward her hairline. One corner of her mouth slowly rose in a crooked little smile. She replied, "Well, you can get ahold a' me anytime you're ready, Cowboy. And your, umm…" She wiggled an index finger toward his lower half. "…secret is safe with me. I won't tell Doc or Chester that you weren't wearin' any…"

She collapsed in peals of laughter as Matt crawled menacingly atop her, pretending to bite her neck. He nibbled his way down, further and further, until her throaty giggles turned to feverish sighs and moans. "I promise…I'll never…oh, Matt…tell any of…right there, Cowboy…your secrets…as long as you keeeeep…doing that… _right_ , ohhh, _there_."

Matt pleasured his beautiful girl tirelessly, until her skin glistened with sweat in the lamplight and she trembled with unreleased ecstasy. He took her just to the precipice and crawled up to lay beside her. Brushing the damp curls off her face, he tenderly asked, "Are you ready for me, honey? Don't let me hurt you. I'm an awful big man. Just tell me to stop if you need me to."

Kitty weakly nodded. She lifted her head, glancing down to see what all the fuss was about, and her jaw even dropped a little when she got a good look. She wasn't sure she'd be able to handle all of that. Matt Dillon - locked and fully loaded, indeed. Oh my.

She must have appeared a bit uncertain or maybe even said the "Oh my" part out loud. But Matt understood that she may have harbored some concerns.

"Aw, sweetheart, I'll take it slow and easy." He reached down to touch her and check his handiwork. "Oh, I think you're good and ready as you'll ever be."

"Ohhh Matt, don't touch me there again or I'll go off, Matt. Like a stick of dynamite. I said you were talented earlier and I mean that double now."

"You just say 'when'." He looked at her expectantly.

"Oh, I'll say 'when' all right. You're an awful big boy, Marshal. Why, I had no idea. I mean, I suspected, of course, but not to the extent…"

Matt effectively shushed her with a deep kiss that tasted musky and earthy like her own scent. She kissed him back, holding his face in her hands, rubbing her sensitive palms over the stubble on his cheeks. She realized tomorrow she would be hurting when she had whisker burn from hell not only on her face but everywhere else including between her thighs. Oh, to endure hell tomorrow but for the joys of heaven tonight. Finally, she spoke again, hushed and earnest. "I want you inside me, Matt."

He responded wordlessly, sliding his hand to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him, lifting her chin to look into her eyes before he kissed her with a featherlight brush of his lips against hers. Sighing, she gently tugged his shoulders until he was sitting on the bed, feet on the floor. She straddled his lap on her knees, hugging his head to her breasts as she threaded her fingers through his hair. "Hold me," she breathed. "Don't let go of me."

He wrapped his hands around her waist to steady her. "I won't let go of you, Kitty. I promise."

Slowly, gently, tenderly, looking into each other's eyes, they became one.

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Matt Dillon laid on his side on his bedroll, staring wistfully into the firelight, thinking of a night nearly what? Fifteen or more years past? But the memory was so strong, so vibrant, so near to him that it seemed like only yesterday. By golly, he must've gotten a little choked up from the campfire smoke because his throat was tight and eyes were watering a little now. But, oh, how beautiful Kitty was in his arms that evening. An evening he would never forget, no, not as long as he lived. But that was only the start of their story.

He had warned her that he couldn't stand the idea of her taking men upstairs, and when they had sealed their love with considerably more than a kiss, it was unthinkable to Matt that she go back to business as usual. That's when Kitty finally revealed to him her hopes for the future - that conversation in the bar they hadn't quite finished before. She had a whingdingdilly of a chance to buy half interest in the Long Branch. Problem was, she was still saving up the cash. Matt was beside himself.

"How much is this place worth, Kitty?

"Well, $7,000, Bill says. That's a fair price."

"Jumpin' Jehosephat, Kitty, that's too much! Why, you'll never…"

"I've been savin' a long time, Matt. You'd be surprised how much money I've got already. Altogether I've gotta raise $3,500 and I've already got…well, over $2000 in the bank."

"Two thousand? That's a whole lotta money, Kitty. But, hell, it's a long way from…"

"Oh, Matt, it's just gonna take me awhile to save it. You hafta understand."

"Kitty, how am I supposed to understand? Explain that to me. How can you go upstairs with another man? How will you feel when you do that?"

Kitty had turned away, eyes filled with tears, and Matt had felt rotten for hurting her. But he couldn't change his emotions or the circumstances of their lives…

Two hours later, Matt had shown up again, anxiously knocking at her bedroom door, hat in hand. She cracked it open a little. Matt could tell she had been crying and he felt even worse. "Can I come in, Kitty?"

Her eyes darted up to glance at him for just a moment. "Are you sure you want to?" Her voice was thick and her nose sounded stuffy.

He looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening in. It was very early and the saloon was nearly empty. "Come on, Kitty. We need to talk."

"Suit yourself." She stepped back as he entered and placed his hat carefully on her bed.

Then he faced her, feeling sick at seeing her tear-stained face and swollen lips up close. He'd done this to her, made her cry. He tried to explain, "Kitty, I'm not mad at you. I'm angry because of the situation we're in."

"You mean me, don't you? The situation _I'm_ in. I'm the one who's stuck being a…"

"Kitty! No…" He stroked her flushed, feverish cheek with one hand, placed a gentle hand beneath her chin so she would look at him. "You're my girl now, so we're in this situation together. This is my problem, too, don't you think?"

Her eyes widened and her lips parted but no words escaped.

He continued, "I mean, it sure as hell _feels_ like my problem." He slipped a hand to the small of her back, pulling her close. "I'm sorry I upset you, honey."

"Me, too." She cut red-rimmed eyes up at him.

He waited for the pretty pout just so that he could kiss it right off her face. Which he did, in record time.

"Oh, Matt, you make it really hard for a girl to be mad at you for very long. You know that?"

"Kitty, if kissin' you will keep you from bein' mad at me, then I will gladly kiss you all the dadblame time." He paused, then eagerly added with twinkling blue eyes, "I've gotta present for you."

She gave him a shy smile, a sentiment Matt was not used to seeing in her. She asked, "What is it?"

He sat on the edge of the bed and patted it. "Come 'ere. It's not really a present though. It's hard to explain."

She sat facing him and from beneath the Stetson he'd placed on the bed, he withdrew an old, scarred, wooden cigar box. It was tied with a sapphire blue satin ribbon done up in a pretty bow. She raised questioning brows, and he simply explained, "Bought the ribbon at Jonas' store, but I paid cash so Chester wouldn't ask me about a charge for ladies' ribbon. It's the same color as your eyes."

"Oh…" Her hand drifted to her chest and she didn't know what to say. The ribbon was a sweet enough gesture for her. She didn't need anything else from Matt.

"Jonas was dying to know what it was for, but I just ignored all his digging." He grinned. "Well, go on, open it."

"Alright…" She untied the ribbon and opened the musty-smelling old cigar box. Contained within were small stacks of cash - twenties and tens, fives and ones. All United States greenbacks, no Confederate bills. There were gold and silver coins as well. Kitty gasped. "Matt…where on earth…where did all this come from?"

"Well, I've been savin' it for half my life and keepin' it in the office safe all these years I've been workin' here in Dodge. A man like me, with no family, I don't need a lot of money, you see. It adds up over time, just like yours did."

"But…but, why are you givin' me all your money, Matt? I can't take your money."

"I told you I don't have a family to spend my money on. Since I moved here, well, my friends have really become like my family – Doc and Chester and… And you…" Matt pushed the box aside and moved close to her, took both her hands in his. "It's not my money anymore, honey. It's your money. I told you I couldn't stand you havin' other men come upstairs and that was true. I don't wanna share you, sweetheart. I can't share you. I just can't. Take this and use it for us. Use it to help buy your half of the Long Branch so you can be boss and never have to take another man upstairs again."

"Except you?"

"Except me. That's understood. I'm part of the deal. In, uh…in perpetuity."

He dug in his pocket for a clean handkerchief to wipe away the tears that were spilling from Kitty's eyes again. He hoped these were happy tears.

tbc

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	7. Chapter 7

_Another annoying author's note: Today's topic - best question from a reviewer, who is also a guest reviewer so I won't be able to answer her personally, so this annoying note is actually totally her fault. Here it is: "Did you study how to get your readers all hot and bothered and just leave them hanging or is it a natural talent?" And the answer is, no, I did not study writing in school at all, except in required English classes where I did the minimum amount of work possible in order to get an "A." So I guess that makes me a Natural Born Sadist. I am relieved to finally discover that I have an actual talent of sorts, although perhaps it is not something I should be spreading around. Oh, and if I did tell you what I actually attended school for and what my job is, you'd laugh (rightfully so) and then I'd hafta kill ya'. Because it's a state secret at least until I retire. There are no smut biscuit writers in my profession. ;-)_

 _Writing this fic without a beta has been harder than heck. So I've been relying on all of your thoughtful reviews for beta information. Your feedback has warmed my heart and aided in my revision immensely. I do hope you enjoy this chapter._

Skip My Rounds Tonight

by Lilyjack

Chapter 7

or

"Back to the Future and It's Full a' Beans"

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By golly, Matt had been so relieved when Kitty finally agreed to take the cash from him that she needed to purchase half the saloon from Bill Pence. Matt didn't know what he would've done otherwise because the idea of her going upstairs with anyone besides him was unthinkable. Hell, he might've even considered robbing a bank for her if that was the only way to keep her downstairs for good. But thankfully, she had used the money, for both their sakes, and set herself on the road to becoming a prosperous young woman. That also freed her up to spend more time with Matt. Oh my, the happy times they had, the heated, romantic nights they spent together.

As a result of their quite frequent, lusty nocturnal activities, it seemed Matt always felt pretty worn out during the daytime hours, especially long about the middle of the afternoon after a big meal at Delmonico's. He attempted to compensate with naps here and there, even on the boardwalk in front of the Marshal's office, leaned back in a chair entirely too small to accommodate his large frame. But along would come Doc or Chester, or worse, sometimes both, giving him hell for shirking his duty. He couldn't win for losing. But in the long run, he didn't give a damn about their playful badgering as long as his little _siestas_ gave him more energy to make love to his bewitching beauty. Kitty Russell was the most passionate woman he'd ever met, and he never wanted to disappoint her, nosirree.

Their last nights together before one of his official trips were always bittersweet and urgent, because the two of them never knew if they would ever see each other again afterward. It was just a fact of life when a man walked in his shoes. A U.S. Marshal was living on borrowed time, facing down gunmen and outlaws as often as he did. It was bad enough when he had a sudden violent encounter in Dodge, but when he was leaving town to face someone apurpose, well, that was another thing entirely.

Kitty always put on a brave face in public, saying goodbye to him out on the street like she didn't have a worry, but he knew better. He realized it was tearing her heart in two, and so it did his as well, but doubly so for the heartache he was causing her.

As a result, he always greatly anticipated his homecoming, when she would first spy him across the Long Branch upon his return. Her eyes would light up as they always did, special for him, nobody else, and she'd give him that smile and she'd say, "Welcome home, Cowboy." Her whiskey voice and her pretty face would warm him all over. They were both quite a bit older now and their looks had changed, but she was still just as beautiful to him as the first day he had met her. And they would always celebrate his arrival home that night upstairs in her room, making love until they were sweaty and sated and had fallen asleep in the tangled sheets.

A clanging sound woke Matt suddenly. His eyes popped open and he spied Festus making coffee, fussing over the embers of their tiny fire, attempting to spark it once more to life.

He sat up, groaning at a kink in his back, wondering when he'd finally fallen asleep. He glanced over to where the black horizon was gradually lightening to dove gray. Today they'd get back home to Dodge. Saddle-weary and heartsore, he'd make it back to Kitty after two long weeks of killing and regret.

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They rode into town on Front Street a grueling fourteen hours later, hitching their mounts in front of the jail, stowing their gear inside the marshal's office. Matt had been powerfully anxious to get home, but knowing he had to give the horses a rest, they'd all slept under some scrubby shade trees for several hours in the worst heat of the day. Elated to be back, Matt quickly and efficiently unpacked his saddlebags, yearning for Kitty's soft bed and softer embrace.

Festus exclaimed, "Matthew, I'm s' hungry, I could eat a' horse right about now. What about you? You wanna go git Miss Kitty and let's us head over t' Delmonico's fer some supper afore we starve plumb t' death?"

"Well, I'm not sure, Festus. I…"

"Now, Matthew, ya' gotta eat! I'll tell ya' what. I'll go take yer horse t' the stable while you go git Miss Kitty. I'll even stop by and see if that ol' no count doctor has eat his supper, too. Whatcha' say about that? Naw, no excuses now. Miss Kitty would want ya' t' have yer strength, wouldn't she? Yeah, I thought so. Me and Doc, we'll meet ya' there in a jiffy."

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Matt stood outside the Long Branch batwing doors, searching for one special girl. He felt her gaze on him and, like a magnet, his eyes were then drawn to her. She was standing at the bar, wearing a stunning black beaded satin dress that set off her porcelain complexion, sapphire eyes and flaming hair to perfection. Like always, her beauty took his breath away, made his chest swell. Those blue eyes were glowing softly, a smile spreading across her face. The place was crowded, but he quickly made a path through the noisy patrons to her side.

She spoke first, her voice rich and warm. "Welcome back, Cowboy."

"Thanks, Kitty. It's good to be back." His words were simple, but he knew she realized how much he truly meant them. Especially this time. He felt like he'd been ridden hard and put away wet. He needed Kitty's comfort. She knew how to soothe his worries.

"Can I offer you a drink?"

Matt had to admit he enjoyed witnessing how nonchalant, how cool and detached she could appear in public when he knew what she really wanted to do when he first arrived home, particularly after being separated for such a long time. He knew because he felt the same way.

"No, Kitty, I don't have time for a drink…"

"So, do you have somethin' else in mind?" she asked quietly, meaningfully.

He leaned over, murmuring in her ear, "I wish I could, but Festus trapped me into goin' to supper at Delmonico's. He wants us all to go, you and Doc, too. We'll meet them there. I assume you haven't eaten?"

She looked disappointed. "No, but…that's not exactly what I had in mind."

"Me neither, but we'll eat quickly and then I'll get cleaned up and…" He raised two bushy eyebrows at her.

"Okay, a quick supper. Real quick because I wanna spend time with just you, Matt."

"I know. I feel the same. So let's get this over with."

"Just let me go tell Sam I'm leaving." She looked around to make sure no one was listening to them and added under her breath, "I wanna kiss you so badly, Matt. It feels like I haven't seen you in ages."

He glanced from side to side before he whispered, "It has been ages, honey. Don't worry. I'm gonna take that pretty dress offa you in a little while and kiss every inch a' you." He was pleased when her face flushed to a delicate rosy hue.

"Why, Matt Dillon!"

"I like it better when you say, "Oh, Matt…" He smiled rakishly. "…over and over again. I know I'm doin' a pretty good job then. I always aim to please."

Eyes wide, she tried to sound scandalized, but couldn't keep the laughter out of her voice. "What on earth has gotten into you?"

"Sleepin' out on the hard ground for two solid weeks instead of in your soft bed. That's what's gotten into me." Again he casually looked around to make sure no one was within ear shot, returning the wave of two ranchers who were sitting at a table across the room before he continued quietly, "I can't wait to hold you in my arms. I've been layin' out there on the prairie all alone…"

"Festus doesn't count?"

"Hell no, he doesn't count. Not for what I need." He leaned on the bar close to her, absently chewed on a thumbnail.

"Oh, I get it now." She bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing.

"…and all I can think about is your soft skin and how sweet you smell and your silky long hair wound around my fingers and the little noises you make when we…"

"Okay, that's enough. Don't you think it's time we met Doc and Festus?"

"I like those little noises you make. It's another way I know I'm doin' a good job. Makes a man proud."

She threw her head back and burst out laughing, a throaty, hearty laugh that rained down over him and soaked into his pores, both soothing him and exciting him. Oh, how he'd missed this woman and her charms.

She daringly placed a hand on his arm and declared, "You are just full a' beans this evenin'."

"I am just so glad to be home, Kitty. It's you that does it to me. Let's go get this supper over with." He sidled closer to her. "Then we can come back to your room and I can take all your clothes off."

"Matt Dillon, there you go again."

"Beans?"

"Yes, but maybe it won't be too bad…"

"We'll have to keep it down," Matt claimed, waggling those eyebrows at her, "or the neighbors will hear."

She sighed, "I imagine all the noise from the saloon downstairs might drown us out. Do you think?"

"By golly, I'm glad this place is roarin' right now or else our little secret would be out for sure."

"Matt, do ya' really think it's that much of a secret?"

"Whatta you mean?" The marshal looked puzzled.

"Never mind. I'm going to tell Sam I'm leaving. Wait here for me."

He murmured, "I'll be right here-don't you worry, honey."

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At dinner they sat side by side, legs touching, arms brushing under the table. They would secretly clasp hands for a minute or two and then let go to take few bites or drink from a coffee cup. All the while Kitty surveyed Matt when no one was watching her; she could tell how tired he was, could see the haunted look in his eyes. She knew that this had not been a good trip for him, realized that beneath the joking exterior he had offered her earlier, he was hurting.

She had read reports of some of what had happened in the newspapers—the killing spree of the bank robbers, the deaths of the outlaws at the hands of "legendary" U.S. Marshal Matt Dillon and his deputy. But she knew that newspaper accounts didn't delve below the surface of the story, and Matt's emotions ran deep. He would share more with her if he needed to. But she knew without a doubt that he needed comforting. She was anxious to get him out of Delmonico's and into a quiet place where they could be alone together.

"Why you ol' scudder, you! I ain't never in all my born days heerd a' such a thang."

"Whatta you mean, Festus? I am speakin' the gospel truth! Matt, tell this… _deputy_ of yours that I am not making up—"

"Doc…" Matt interrupted tiredly.

"What?" Doc irritably groused.

Matt offered, "I think it's about time I walked Kitty back home."

Festus protested, "But you two ain't even et dessert yet. I see they got fresh apple pie over there just a'waitin' fer…"

Kitty quickly spoke up, "Festus, I'd love to, but I really gotta get back. And Matt's tired, too. I think he needs some rest."

Festus argued, "Why, there's nothin' like a larrupin' slice a' warm apple pie t' put the sprang back in yer step, Matthew!"

Doc eyed Kitty and Matt knowingly. "Festus, now they said they didn't want dessert and…"

Festus sputtered, "But Doc, we been gone all this time and we just git back in town and start a'havin' us some fun and you say we gotta go home? Why, that don't make no sense a'tall!"

Doc shook his head. "Well, you just wouldn't understand, would you? And I'm not gonna spell it out for ya' either." He stood, placing his hat firmly on his head. "Matt, it's good to have you back." He winked at Kitty. "Take good care of him now. Good night, you two. Come on, Festus, over to my place. I'll buy you a drink."

Festus perked up. "You'll buy me a drank? Why, that's mighty neighborly a' you, Doc. Night, Matthew, Miss Kitty. We'll see you tomorry, I reckon."

Matt and Kitty smiled warmly at their friends, sighing as the two tottered out the door of Delmonico's, one bow-legged, the other arthritic.

"You ready to go?" Kitty asked him.

"I've been ready for the past hour," Matt admitted.

"Come on, Cowboy." She lowered her voice and asked him, "You wanna hot bath?"

He murmured back, "I want you. But I guess I gotta have a hot bath first, huh?"

"Depends on how much a' me you want."

He quickly agreed, "I'll take the bath."

"I thought ya' might. That's why I asked Sam t' have one ready in my rooms for right about now."

"No wonder I love you, honey. You're awful pretty and smart to boot."

"Oh, so that's why you keep me around. Let's go. That water is probably gettin' cold."

Matt grunted an "Alright" in reply and threw some coins on the table to pay for their supper. He pulled out her chair and held the door as they left. Then he offered his arm for Kitty to take as they walked companionably down the boardwalk, happy to simply be with one another again after two long, decidedly unhappy weeks apart.

Matt was always proud of his girl when they walked down the street together. Oh, there would always be high-falutin' church ladies or even pompous men who would go out of their way to snub Kitty Russell, "that saloon woman," but Matt didn't give a damn. Kitty had climbed her way up from saloon girl to saloon owner using nothing but grit, hard work and determination, not to mention savvy. Not many people could say that. She'd had dreams and ambitions, just like she'd told him that long-ago day in the Long Branch, and she'd made them come true. So the naysayers could go hang themselves. He always stood a little taller when his beautiful, intelligent girl walked on his arm. But he sometimes wondered if anyone suspected that they were a lot more than just friends.

While he'd been woolgathering, they'd made it all the way back to the Long Branch. Kitty spoke, "Matt, I'll tell Sam I'm turnin' in early." She put a hand on her hip and added wryly, "Don't know why, but he probably already suspects I'll be doin' just that."

"Huh?" Matt scratched his head beneath the brim of his hat. "Uh…I'll meet you at the back door. I'll be the one in sore need of a bath."

"I'll be waitin'." Her eyes shined at him softly in the glow of the street lamp as she murmured, "And I still wanna kiss you awful bad right now, Matt Dillon. Two weeks is too long."

"You better believe it is, honey. I'll be around in a minute. First, I think I might go ask Festus if he'll do rounds tonight."

Kitty's jaw dropped.

"Don't look at me like that."

"But, Matt, you never…"

"Sometimes I do."

"No, you don't. You never skip doing rounds."

"Is that so? Well, I can think of one time I did."

"You can?" She sounded dubious.

"Honestly, Kitty? You're tellin' me you don't remember?" He looked left and right, leaned in and whispered, "I skipped my rounds once upon a time, years ago, because I had a bare ass naked girl, the most beautiful girl I'd ever lain eyes on, waitin' for me in the Long Branch office." He raised his brows at her. "Does that ring any bells?"

"Oh…yeah…" She bit her bottom lip. "Chester did your rounds…"

"And he almost caught you, little lady. Remember that?"

"How could I, um…" She cut those big blue eyes up at him. "…forget that?"

He could detect her cheeks coloring prettily even in the dim glow of the lantern light. He screwed up his mouth and looked heavenward as if thinking deep thoughts. "No, I don't know what poor Chester would've done if he'd 'uncovered' you in your hiding place, so to speak. Either he would've never recovered from the shock of it and had to join a monastery…"

Kitty pressed her lips together and rolled her eyes.

"…or he would've challenged me to a duel to the death for the right to your favors."

"Favors? Is that what the young bucks are calling it nowadays?"

"You sure as hell did me a favor that night, honey."

"Oh, Matt!" She whacked him on the arm with her gloves. He burst out with a gleeful giggle. Unsuccessfully attempting to smother her own smile, her eyes twinkled appreciatively at her man's sense of humor, a side of him that few people, unfortunately, were privileged to share.

When another couple strolled arm-in-arm down the boardwalk, he cleared his throat, straightened his stance and endeavored to appear sober and respectable as Kitty and he both cordially greeted the man and woman in passing. After the pair had disappeared into a storefront, he continued under his breath, "Sweetheart, that was probably the best day of my entire life up until that point. You made this simple cowboy's dreams come true." He gifted her with a wide grin, and she ventured to reach up and smooth his shirt front with the palm of her hand right there on Front Street, a sweet, secret smile on her lips. He knew she wanted to do so much more. He asked, "You wanna know why I always go on rounds, Kitty?"

She tilted her head up at him, and he could see tears sparkling in her eyes. He watched her perfect lips form the question, "Why?"

He cleared his throat and pushed his hat back off his forehead a ways, leaning in to whisper again. "Well, mainly I go because it always gives me an excuse to come back here to the Long Branch on my very last stop to visit you. Real late. And possibly get a nightcap." He winked.

"Oh, Matt…"

"See? I do love to hear you say that."

"You really are full a' somethin' tonight and it ain't beans."

"But you love me anyway, don'tcha?"

"Yes… I love you, Matt Dillon. Meet me at the back door in five minutes. Don't be late."

"I won't be late. I promise."

tbc

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	8. Chapter 8

_I so appreciate broncomap, whose own fanfic provided a lovely spark of inspiration thus solving a plot problem I had with the last two chapters, mainly in that I felt they lacked enough emotional depth and required a little more "much ado" and less "nothing." I emailed her an advance copy and she a-okayed my use of her "spark," thank heavens. Hey, maybe she has gone and invented a brand-new fanfic trope for our passionate couple. I'm game! So thanks a bushel and a peck for being my "Rounds" final round-up muse, broncomap, so I can finish serving up this sweet, buttery biscuit to all the cowgirls out there…and maybe a cowboy or two. It could happen… ;-)_

Skip My Rounds Tonight

by Lilyjack

Chapter 8

or

"Vests & Slick-backs vs. Vestless & Boyish Curls = No Contest"

She recognized his knock at the back door, in spite of the fact that he'd possessed his own key for longer than she cared to admit, and her heart skipped a beat. She couldn't get over the fact that after all these years together, the man could still make her heart race or tickle her stomach with butterflies, as if she were still just an inexperienced schoolgirl with a youthful infatuation. But the reality was she would never get over Matt Dillon. That man would be a part of her forever, in her blood and in her bones like the food she ate and the air she breathed, come hell or high water. Nothing or no one could tear them apart. She'd have to die first, she thought grimly.

Deftly, she turned the lamp down lower so that the cozy, feminine room was bathed in a soft, golden glow. Her heavy skirts rustled as she gracefully crossed the fine Oriental carpet to answer the door, her hand trembling ever so slightly in anticipation. The thought of making love to Matt after two long weeks was enough to make her a little breathless. Dillon knew how to make her muscles quiver like gooseberry jelly—oh that man was talented, she gave him that. When he was gone for prolonged periods of time, she'd lie alone in bed at night and positively ache for his touch.

But now, he was back.

She drew open the door and the night sounds of Dodge drifted in—a barking dog, a tinny player piano, echoing horses' hooves on the packed dirt street, raucous male voices carousing on the boardwalk. But she had ears, and eyes, for only one man waiting out in the gloomy shadows of the alley. He was six feet, seven inches of pure, honest, hard-working, dedicated lawman, standing there so rugged and handsome. Thumbs hooked in his belt, he was contemplating her like he so often did, most times across the crowded Long Branch, that glittering blue squint, an intense gaze as if he were undressing her with his eyes that made her muscles shiver and her belly burn down low. Ever since they were young, Matt Dillon had wielded that power over her with only the passionate hunger he held in his eyes.

Some things never changed. Standing outside her door, Matt's pale blue eyes raked heatedly over Kitty Russell while she stood in the intimate seclusion of her bedroom. An unmistakable shiver ran down her spine, striking a fiery match at her center, warming her and making her melt. Taking in a slow, steadying breath, she met his gaze and murmured in her low, musical whiskey voice, "Come in, Cowboy. Welcome home."

Striding in with a purpose and firmly shoving the door closed with one hand, he wordlessly backed her against the wall, the dusty, trail-worn U.S. Marshal, a giant among men, and the elegant, evening-gown clad business owner with upswept, shining curls. They kissed deeply, hungrily, lips and tongues and teeth nipping and tasting, breath mingling, denim pressed tightly against satin, strong muscular arms enveloping, and lithe, delicate limbs entwining, eager hands roaming freely to reacquaint themselves with the familiar, seductive terrain of the other's body.

"Oh, Matt…" More heated, desperate kisses. "I missed you so much…"

He groaned, wanting to touch her, kiss her everywhere at once. "Sweet Jesus, I missed you, too, Kitty. But I'm gonna ruin your pretty dress."

"I don't care."

"You say that now, but you'll be givin' me hell tomorrow mornin' when you see it in daylight."

"Let's take care of that problem right now." She was out of breath from his passionate kisses when she reached up to help him slip his dusty vest from his shoulders. "I really wish you wouldn't wear this thing all the time, Matt. It hides your handsome broad shoul-"

He shut her up with a lusty kiss to her swollen lips and was rewarded by her contented humming against his mouth. He sighed dramatically, "I know. You tell me that all the time. But I don't think most outlaws give a damn whether I have handsome shoulders or not." He tossed his hat expertly onto a nearby hook.

One corner of her mouth curled up in a sultry little smile. "But I do, Cowboy." She began to unbutton his shirt as he kicked off his boots and unfastened his pants. "And I wish you'd stop combing your hair straight back," she admonished. "Why are you trying to hide those curls? They make you look awful handsome, too." She tiptoed and ruffled his slicked-back hair with her fingers, then admired her handiwork. "There, that's so much better."

"Yeah, I bet I look like I got straight outta bed."

"What's the matter with that?"

"Honey, I'm just tryin' to look a little more professional." He kicked off his pants and shrugged his grimy union suit off his shoulders, affording her a nice view of his broad chest. He drawled, "Not like I just crawled outta the sack with the purdiest girl in Kansas…" He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "…and I been makin' sweet love to her…" Another peck to the nose. "…alllll night…" A deep kiss to her lips and he pulled back slowly. "…long."

She tried to frown but was completely unable to resist the boyish charms of a man long past his boyhood days. She settled for giving him a pretty pout and reaching over to tug his union suit off his hips, letting the stretched-out garment puddle in the floor around his feet. She declared, "Well, if you wanna make sweet love to this _girl_ , you best get in that tub a' hot water, cause you smell like a horse, Cowboy." She winked at him, then gave his naked body, although considerably dirty, an appreciative up-and-down glance. Oh, that big man was a wonder.

Stepping out of his undergarment, he rolled his eyes and headed for the water closet. "I smell like a horse cause my sorry hide has been sittin' on one for two weeks. Come in here and wash my back, will ya'?"

She stood watching him walk away, one arm clasped across her middle as she chewed absently at her opposite thumbnail. Her hand nearly hid the small smile that crossed her face while one eyebrow slowly lifted.

Matt called over his shoulder as he passed into the next room, "I know you're starin' at my ass, Kitty. You have no shame."

Jamming her fists on her hips, she teased, "Matt Dillon, you're one to talk about shame. And I'll have you know that you possess the finest backside of any man in all of Kans…"

"Stop that, Kitty."

"Alright, alright… You never let me have any fun." Snickering a little, she followed the sounds of splashing.

She leaned against the door jamb, watching him sink down into the hot water, and they both sighed in contentment. She'd noticed his limp wasn't as badly pronounced as it sometimes was when he returned home from tough journeys like this one. That was a great relief. Kitty often attempted to ease his many aches and pains with both topical cures from Hetzell's Pharmacy and plenty of massage. She wasn't certain if it actually helped, but Matt sure enough enjoyed it, and that counted for something. Anything to get his mind off his oftentimes brutal work for a short while. Trouble was, the "massage" part sometimes didn't last too awful long before her man was all fired up, and suddenly she found herself backed up against the wall with her clothes on the floor and her legs wrapped around his waist. He was a man of surprises, alright. She never knew whether she was in for a tantalizing, slow ride or a bucking bronco. Either way, he made sure both the horse and the barn got equal care, so to speak, which was way more than any man she had ever met had ever done for her. That was just the kinda man he was.

She had amused herself with that little horse and barn analogy and she huffed out a tiny laugh. Matt looked up questioningly when she did, but she just blew him a little kiss in return. He returned her gesture with a happy, crooked grin that made her chest grow tight. Kitty smiled when Matt suddenly slid down further into the tub, ducking his whole head under the surface and coming back up spraying water everywhere, scrubbing his hands in his scalp, stirring up those charming curls she loved so much.

He opened tightly-closed eyes to catch her still observing him closely with folded arms. He gave her a wide, white grin. "Hey, if you're gonna wash my back, you might wanna take off that fancy dress first so it doesn't get ruined." He winked at her and she cut her eyes over at him. "Uh…you can take it off right in here if you want." He gave her the captivating grin again. "I won't mind at all."

"Oh, I just bet you won't. What were you sayin' a minute ago about shame?" A smile danced at the corners of her mouth as she reached behind her neck to begin unbuttoning the expensive, black beaded dress that sparkled in the lamplight. "You always did enjoy gettin' girls outta their dresses, didn't you?"

He was watching her work quietly, absently biting a thumbnail. "Only you, honey. Only you."

"Matt, I can't get it unfastened all the way."

"Come 'ere." He quickly grabbed a towel to dry his hands. "Lemme help."

She sat on a low, leather-padded stool next to the tub with her back to him while he nimbly unfastened the numerous tiny buttons leading down her spine. He'd become an expert over their many years together at helping her get dressed and undressed, even with his relatively large fingers. "There you go." He placed his palm flat on the creamy skin of her exposed upper back and smooth over it gentle and slow. "You feel so good. Have I mentioned that I missed you?" He placed a damp kiss on the nape of her neck and she shivered in delight.

"Oh, Matt…" She stood and shrugged out of the shimmering gown, letting it fall to the floor. "I'm so glad you're home." Then she sat again on the stool next to him in her lacey underthings, dunking a washcloth and soap in the steamy water. "I missed you, too." Gently she scrubbed her man's shoulders. He leaned forward at her touch and she swept her cloth over his back, smoothing the sudsy bubbles onto his skin. "I know it was hard on you this time, harder than most, I mean. I read about it in the papers."

Matt's eyes were closed. He nodded mutely.

"I'm so sorry." Her throat felt tight with unshed tears as she tenderly washed the back of his neck.

He finally spoke, hoarse and low. "Thanks, Kitty." He sat still a few moments longer, humming his appreciation of her ministrations. "You're a comfort to me, you know that." His voice was gruff but earnest.

"I hope so."

"I couldn't do this, day in and day out if…" The words caught in his throat.

"I know, Matt." She continued washing his arms as he leaned back tiredly against the tub. She gently massaged his scalp clean with her fingernails, carefully wiped away all the grit from his face, soaped and rinsed his chest and belly. That's when she noticed that his breathing was steady and he was sound asleep, her deeply-driven and honorable yet conflicted and guilt-ridden Cowboy - her knight in shining armor. Sometimes it made her sad to think that no one would ever know him the way that she knew him. He didn't let people beneath his brave, stoic façade easily.

She let him sleep while she retrieved her black evening gown from the floor and hung it in the chifforobe in her bedroom. Then she sat on the bed and removed her shoes, rubbing her aching feet. It had been a long day with plenty of customers and only one bartender, so she'd been up serving drinks most of the time. Thankfully, business had slowed down considerably by the time Matt had shown up, so Sam would be able to handle the bar by himself now.

She was just so glad to have Matt home safe again—it had been frightening to read the bloody accounts in the newspapers and worry if he'd been injured in the fight with the outlaws. Kitty had taken careful inventory during Matt's bath though. No new scars to add to his impressive collection, she was relieved to note. Every time he was hurt, it was like another knife wound to her own heart.

She went to the chest of drawers and dug out her negligee that was Matt's favorite, a diaphanous nightgown that left little to the imagination. She reckoned he wouldn't sleep for too much longer as his bathwater should be getting a mite chilly soon. She carried her gown back into the water closet and checked on him—he was still softly snoring. Her heart squeezed tight, seeing his face so relaxed with the cares of the world not nipping at his heels.

He looked years younger sleeping peacefully in the tub, and if she could've erased all those bullet scars visible on his chest and arms right then, she would have sworn that a decade and a half hadn't passed as swiftly as a prairie fire in the wind. She sighed. Soon as he awoke, she would put him right to bed. He was worn plumb out, partly just from sleeping out-of-doors on the hard ground - because Matt was not a young man anymore. His body had surely suffered more than most for his many years of service as a U.S. Marshal.

Kitty wished she could say she had lost count of the wounds he'd received, but she actually knew precisely how many and where each was located plus the date he'd received them and from whom. She attempted to forget such torturous details, but memories like that haunted a woman's waking dreams. She couldn't escape them. She went to bed most nights with a living map of them on her lover's skin. The knowledge was seared in her tactile memory and it wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. It was just a fact of life, loving a man who laid his life on the line every single day the way Matt Dillon did.

Kitty realized Matt also came home exhausted from these ordeals simply from the heartache of all the killing. Matt Dillon was a peacekeeper, not a natural-born killer. To say it bothered him to take another man's life was a vast understatement. He viewed it as a necessary evil to protect good citizens from harm and to keep law and order in his territory. But even when he had no other choice but to take an evil man's life, Matt Dillon felt guilty. It was just in his nature. Kitty believed she had never known a finer man, one of upstanding character who held himself to such impossibly high standards.

When he would come home to her, conscience-stricken and heavy-hearted, she would attempt to do the only thing she could, which was provide him a little comfort. For there is no salve that can completely heal a man's heart that was never diseased to begin with. But Kitty Russell's brand of placebo was pure enough, compassionate enough, to ease Matt Dillon's pain and alleviate his existential crisis, for the time being anyway. There was nothing like a warm, spirited, intelligent woman who loved a man more than life itself to help drive his demons away.

And that's just what Kitty was set on doing that night.

Tossing her translucent gown across a chair, she wrestled her white cotton corset cover over her head and then began unlacing the front of the tightly cinched undergarment itself, always a pleasant relief at this time of day. Whoever had invented this thing must've had a love/hate relationship with women – it was a miserable contraption to wear, but it sure gave a gal an hourglass figure, whether she actually possessed one or not.

She paused, gazing at the huge, sleeping man in the bathtub, for a moment overcome with relief that he was safe and sound, remembering the impassioned dream she'd had about him while he was gone, so vivid it had seemed real. So real her body had responded physically, viscerally, to his phantom lovemaking until she woke with a hoarse cry, out of breath, her intimate muscles contracting rhythmically. Her nightclothes and sheets were sticky with sweat, and suddenly she'd felt an unnatural dread in the center of her chest.

As she'd stripped her damp nightgown over her head and ripped the soiled sheets from the bed, she hadn't been able to shake the superstitious fear that perhaps Matt Dillon had been killed in the line of duty, had passed on and visited her one last time in her sleep. She hadn't slept another wink that night. Instead, she'd sat in a rocking chair with her knees drawn to her chest, wrapped in a blanket, staring at the empty bed where they'd spent countless tender nights together.

By first light, she could stand the tight, panicked feeling in her chest no longer. She'd dressed and was heading out the front door of the Long Branch for the telegraph office to try and get news of Matt when she heard Doc's voice approaching.

"Just…wait for me!" He irritably muttered, "Dadblast it…"

Kitty turned her head suddenly to spy Doc hurriedly shuffling in her direction, waving a folded newspaper in the air. She supposed she'd been so focused on locking up the front door and deciding to whom she should first try to telegram for news of Matt that she hadn't even noticed the elderly physician. "Doc, I'm sorry," she called. "I really can't talk right now. I'm headin' to the telegraph office."

He caught up with her a few paces down the boardwalk from the saloon. "Telegraph office? Kitty, will ya'…? Will ya' wait just a minute? Stop right here." He placed a hand on her arm, noting her low-key attire and the circles under her anxious eyes. That morning she had hurriedly pulled her hair back in a neat ribbon and thrown on a black broadcloth skirt and simple white shirtwaist. He also took note that her face paint was at a minimum as well, and he even spied a scattering of girlish freckles across her nose. The effect would've been charming if he hadn't been so worried about his dear friend. "What's goin' on? Tell me what's wrong."

Kitty's brows knit together at Doc's kindly face, his comforting tone. "Doc, I…" She didn't know how to explain to him. Couldn't explain it all. It was entirely too personal. "I had a dream last night. About Matt. I'm just so scared and…" She choked on her own words and then bit her bottom lip to keep from crying.

Doc's eyes glistened in sympathy as he crooned, "Oh, honey…" He caught both her hands in his. "That's just what I came here for. He nodded down at the wrinkled newspaper he had tucked under his arm. "Let's go back inside, alright? I've got good news for you. Matt's okay. I imagine he'll be headin' home any day now. It's all over."

"It is? You're sure?" She dashed away a few tears that spilled onto her cheeks with the back of her hand while her companion dug in his pocket for a clean handkerchief to loan her.

Doc nodded. "I'm sure. The bank robbers were…" Doc's eyes looked away as he searched in his memory. "'…shot and killed by the courageous U.S. Marshal and his loyal deputy.' But those outlaws managed to do a lot of murdering of innocent people before Matt and Festus caught up with them." Doc scrubbed at his mustache thoughtfully. "But I'll let you read the story yourself." He levelled his gaze at Kitty. "You know that fact alone is eating Matt up inside."

She slowly nodded. Kitty had felt weak with relief at the news that Matt was safe, and she latched onto Doc's right arm for support as much as an escort back to the saloon. He smiled elatedly and patted her hand. Her voice was thick with emotion as she invited, "Bring your newspaper inside, Curly. I'll buy you a cup of coffee."

Kitty started when Matt shifted a little in the tub, bringing her back to the here and now. She wondered if she would tell him about her unsettling dream. Perhaps she could tell him about the dream, but not that it unsettled her so badly. He did like hearing about her dreams of him, especially when they involved lovemaking.

Since their earliest days, they'd shared with one another their most amorous nighttime dreams, whispered confessions under cover of darkness in their warm, soft bed. In their unconscious minds, what had they said, what had they done…how had it felt? Sometimes they got a mite tickled at the mental images the dreams provided but at other times, the arousing visions led to heated experimentation. When Matt remarked that their dreams seemed to mainly occur when the two were separated for long periods of time due to Matt's job, Kitty had remarked drily, "Well, I can't imagine why." Her sassy comment had earned her a giggling chase around the room, ending in her breathless capture on the floor. Kitty had surrendered completely to the marshal's authority.

And one quiet evening when the usually sober-minded couple had imbibed a little too much during the annual Christmas party, they lay in bed naked, contentedly spooning. Matt had admitted that those amorous dreams often occurred out on the lone prairie when he was missing Kitty something fierce and he didn't have a soul to talk to and nothing to distract him from thoughts of her pretty smile and soft skin. And then he'd touch himself and pretend it was her that was pleasuring him. He'd envision his beautiful girl right there with him under the endless starlit sky with the full moon overhead until he achieved sweet release, calling out her name. The admission had nearly taken her breath away. That night in her bed, with her back against his chest and his arms wrapped possessively around her, she had been able to feel rather than see his face flush at his deeply intimate confession.

She had hurriedly reassured him, "When you're gone, I just ache for you, too, Matt."

"You do?" He'd sounded taken aback that a lady would feel such a thing. But his Kitty was a passionate girl, and he shouldn't have been surprised.

"Yes, Matt, I do. And some nights when you're not here in my bed, and I can't get you off my mind, I do the same." She turned her head to look at him in the pale moonlight of the bedroom. "I pleasure myself and pretend it's your hands caressing me."

He had placed his hands over hers, stroking one over her full breast and the other sliding between her legs. His whiskey breath had tickled her ear when he feverishly murmured, "Like this?"

She closed her eyes and exhaled a breath, "Yesss…"

"I like that you do that, honey. That you're thinking of me even when I'm not here." He had kissed her lips slowly while their entwined hands had massaged her flesh until her she'd begun to arch her back, rhythmically thrusting her hips.

"Ohhh…Matt…"

Oh, that man was just gonna love her up one of these days, she softly sighed as she stood in her unmentionables, contemplating the big fella' still napping in the bathtub. She worked at loosening her stays as she smiled. He had a few more years on him now and a lot more gray hair, but they still shared their amorous dreams when he came home. It actually served to spice things up between them. Matt's dreams could be mighty, um…provocative.

Kitty glanced down as her fingers reached an impasse with her foundation garment. As she softly cursed an exasperating knot in her laces, she wondered how much longer Matt would nap in the cooling bathwater. He truly needed to get some decent sleep in a real bed. He deserved it.

But if she couldn't get these damn laces unknotted pretty soon, she might be forced to venture out and recruit help. She shook her head. Now wouldn't that make a pretty picture? Poor Sam might never recover. Damn corsets…

tbc

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	9. Chapter 9

_So one last time, Gunsmoke fans,_ _a bushel basketful of thanks for the kind, thoughtful and ultimately informative reviews which served to significantly reshape this little biscuit. (This sapsucker is at least twice as long now, folks.) And thanks for hanging with me throughout the delays whilst I was feverishly writing those additions. I hope you enjoy this final chapter._

Skip My Rounds Tonight

by Lilyjack

Chapter 9

or

"Every Inch a' You…"

Matt detected rustling fabric and soft curses, even while he felt goosebumps creeping over his skin in the uncomfortably cool bathwater. He also had a crick in his neck courtesy of lying in the tub with his head at an odd angle for an extended period of time. Sometimes it was hell getting old, he thought. But then he cracked open his eyes a slit to glimpse his old-age companion, blazing red hair beginning to tumble down around her shoulders as she drew her lacy ladies' underthings over her head, and he suddenly decided that maybe old age wasn't turning out to be so bad after all. She was quietly but fiercely cursing a knot in the laces of her corset, standing with her back to him, unable to loosen it for love nor money.

Matt rolled his sore neck muscles this way and that, stiffly and slowly sat upright, stretching his unused back and leg muscles. Bracing his hands on the sides of the tub, he stood in a whoosh of streaming water, all six feet, seven inches of him.

Kitty glanced up from her task, wide-eyed. "Matt, you startled me. I didn't know you were awake." He scratched the back of his head, which Kitty was happy to note was already drying in soft curls. She would _not_ let him slick them back with bear grease pomade tonight, not if it was the last thing she ever did. She approached him, happily distracted from her frustrating business.

His eyes twinkled. "Well, I heard my dainty little honey-pie cursin' like a sailor and…"

"Oh, Matt Dillon, you…!" She gave his wet behind a firm smack.

"Ouch! Unhand me, woman! By golly, I'll teach you to strike an officer of the law…" A long arm, strong as iron and dripping wet, snaked around her waist, drawing her close as she gave a surprised and raucous laugh. His head bent low, and he kissed her…sweetly once, gently again, and with a brush of his lips one last time, he released her.

She opened her eyes longingly and Matt explained, "See, I'm ruinin' your pretty things again. I've gone and got you all wet."

"Alright… Let's get you dried off." She shot him a look. " _Then_ we won't have to worry anymore." She grabbed a nearby towel as her eyes pored over him appreciatively. "My, you clean up good, Cowboy." She began briskly rubbing his skin dry.

"Yeah, well…" he began sheepishly, "I reckon I'm not too impressive right now, standin' here in this cold water."

"Get on out then, Matt. I won't have you freezing to death. And I'll have you know I am always dazzled by your manly virility, even if you have been up to your neck in ice-cold, peck-..."

"Okay, honey, I get the idea!" Matt rolled his eyes long-sufferingly. "Don't you worry. I'm sure you'll have me heated back up in record time. Whoa, those are the parts, right there! Let's not get too frisky with the towel. I haven't even got your clothes offa you yet."

Kitty made short work of drying his long legs and feet, then straightened back up to face him with a frown. "Whether or not that is a possibility remains to be seen. I have a knot. It's awful stubborn, Matt."

"So I heard. Lemme take a look."

He sat on the leather stool so he would be eye to eye with her laces. She watched him contemplate the knot, envious of his perfect vision at his age. To do close work, she often had to use her lorgnette. She supposed she should have gotten it out to work on the knot, but she seemed to have misplaced the blasted thing somewhere two days ago and couldn't locate it anywhere. "I nearly broke a nail trying to get it untied, Matt."

"I don't have any fancy nails to break. Just gimme a minute." He wore a determined expression on his face, tongue touching his upper lip as he worked and pulled, pulled and worked. At last, the knot gave way.

She lavished Matt with a radiant smile and a tight hug. "Thank you! I was beginning to think I was gonna hafta sleep in this thing! I mean, I realize lots of women do, but oh no, not me. I'm not that crazy. I…"

"You know we coulda' just cut the laces with a knife."

"Like hell we would have. This corset was expensive and I had to special order it from…"

"I woulda' bought you another one…" He pulled her down into his lap and she draped her arms around his neck. "… even if it took a month of Sundays to pay for it." He nuzzled her tumbledown hair, inhaling the fragrance of rosewater, tracing his lips over her ear. "I haven't seen you in two weeks, Kitty."

"Oh, Matt…" Kitty wore a contrite expression. "I'm sorry." She tenderly kissed his cheek.

"If I don't get my hands underneath that corset pretty soon, I won't be responsible for my actions."

"Oh, you say the sweetest things sometimes." Her eyes twinkled as her fingers tenderly threaded through his soft hair.

He shot her a rakish grin. "I don't know that I'm sweet, but I'm truthful."

"Your truths are my sweet nothings, Matt Dillon. Kiss me, please, and then help me get out of this contraption."

"It'd be my pleasure, Miss Russell."

He kissed her and adeptly loosened her stays at the same time. Much practice over the years had made him a skilled expert in making love to his girl, all the while divesting her of her undergarments.

But once she'd loosened the hated corset from her torso, the inevitable scratching began. One of the many unfortunate side-effects of having one's body compressed for long periods of time with a wrinkled chemise beneath is that one's skin itched like hell once the instrument of torture had been at long last finally removed. When they were still young, Matt was appalled to see the damage Kitty wrought on her own delicate skin with her fingernails - long red whelps of very tiny blood-blisters. He insisted she stop; he would soothe her awful itching with his own hands and fingers, devoid of long fingernails, so as not to injure her skin. Oh, he was only too glad to offer his services, of course. And thereafter, whenever he was present for Kitty's nighttime ritual of removing the hated undergarment, his soothing caresses inevitably led to love-making of one form or another. For Matt Dillon did not do things by half measures, in public or private.

"Don't scratch, honey," he remonstrated against her mouth between kisses. "Stand up and hold up your arms for me." They both rose from the stool, and he lifted the embroidered undergarment with loosened laces up over her head. Then she untied not one, but two petticoats from around her waist, allowing them to billow to the floor at her feet. He held her hand while she stepped out of voluminous yards of fabric and was left wearing only her two-piece chemise and drawers. "Nuh-uh…" he gently remonstrated when he saw one of her hands reach to dig long, well-manicured nails into her side through her cotton chemise. "Come 'ere." He sighed, smiling. "Lemme help."

From long custom, she familiarly backed up, relaxing her back against Matt's chest as he began to rub her sides and belly with his huge palms, his thumbs reaching around to her back. Then he would softly scratch with his fingertips. She quietly emitted a hiss of deep satisfaction, eyes closed.

Matt asked in a gruff voice, "More?"

She nodded, eyes still shut, "Mmm-hmmm…"

He reached down and unbuttoned three tiny shell buttons on the bodice of her lace-trimmed chemise, quick as a wink. "Lift up…" he instructed, his voice thick with emotion. It had been two very long, arduous weeks since he had laid eyes on his ladylove.

She dutifully allowed him to strip her naked to the waist, again settling back against him and the rising evidence of his love for her, lifting and entwining her arms behind his neck. Then he was able to caress her itching skin from waist to soft bosom and back again, over and over. Matt was watching their reflection in the cheval mirror; his breath was coming nearly as quickly as hers was. "Kitty, you are the most beautiful woman in the world," he earnestly professed.

"Oh, Matt…" She could hardly string together a coherent sentence. "I'm not a…pretty, young girl…anymore. You're just sayin'-"

"I don't want a girl. I want you, Kitty. It's you that's beautiful to me."

"So…sweet…"

"You're the only person on this earth who thinks I'm sweet, honey. Kitty, these here are gettin' in the way." He slipped a finger beneath the waistband of her pantaloons. "Would you mind?"

"Mmm…fire away, Cowboy…"

In two shakes of a lamb's tail, he'd untied her drawers and the soft fabric dropped to the floor, to be swept to the side to join the rest of her unmentionables. Now Matt's caresses held free rein over Kitty's body and he was able to fully pleasure her, touching her in secret places no one but he was privy to.

For a moment, gazing into the mirror at her breathtaking form responding to his attentions, he glimpsed the hateful scar that was left behind after she was kidnapped by a gang of ruthless outlaws who had abused and shot her. For that instant, his chest felt tight and it was hard to breathe. Matt always had to forcefully shove that ugly memory to the back of his mind. He'd always blamed himself for what had happened to her, but for the sake of his sanity, Kitty insisted they couldn't keep rehashing things like that. They agreed to simply focus on the here and now. Where he and Kitty were concerned, the here and now were all they had. They couldn't dwell on their past, and they couldn't rely on their future. He and Kitty only had each other today. And right this moment he had the woman he loved in his arms.

"Ohh….Matt…" she gasped. "Matt… "

"I think it's high time I took you to bed, Miss Russell," he murmured into her ear. "You're sayin' my name like you mean it."

Matt swept her up, light as a feather with nary a petticoat or a skirt, a corset or any of those other ladies' things that tended to get in his way. She lay bonelessly in his arms, a small moan escaping her lips as he carried her swiftly to the bedroom and gently lay her upon the bed. He was plenty heated up by now, just watching Kitty in the mirror becoming aroused by his hands on her, not to mention holding her supple, responsive body closely against his own. Matt Dillon's passions had always been easily het up when it came to Kitty Russell.

Kitty reached for him with outstretched arms, and he crawled up alongside her. He pressed his lips against her sweet mouth. She slipped her arms and legs in and around his body, entwining them in his own limbs, holding him so close that he wasn't sure where one of them left off and the other began. The feeling was overwhelming. They exchanged countless passionate kisses as he stroked his large hand over the silky soft skin of her back and she pressed her body even more tightly against his. Groaning, he declared in a voice rife with emotion, "Honey, you have no idea how much I missed you."

Her striking blue eyes fixed on his, full of yearning. "Show me…"

He gave her one last kiss on her parted lips, murmuring, "Just lay back, honey…" Then he began slowly, languorously, trailing his hot mouth tantalizing down the length of her, kissing, tasting, worshipping every sultry, sinuous dip, every soft, creamy inch of her just like he had promised earlier in the saloon. That was when he and Kitty had been surrounded by people, and Matt, frustratingly, hadn't been able to touch her. But now Kitty Russell was completely naked beneath his eager hands and lips, and his feverish gaze could openly admire her lying sensuously atop the bed, tiny sweat droplets clinging to every ripe curve, every delicious valley, shimmering golden in the lamplight. Her wordless, wanton cries when he suckled her most tender flesh, her body responding in a primal rhythm, her fingers threading desperately through his hair, all made his heart pound and his blood rush urgently through his veins. His sweetheart had always been a little bit wild, a very passionate woman, and it satisfied him to no end that he, a simple cowboy, could pleasure her so.

"Matt…" Her hands were clutching at the bedcovers, her hair falling seductively across her face, her bare breasts heaving in breathless desire. "I need you inside me…please."

Quickly kissing her perspiring face, he locked eyes with her as he slipped one of her legs over his shoulder and easily entered her, rocking slowly and gently at first, then gradually with more urgency.

She gazed at his impassioned, determined expression with those curls, damp now with sweat, hanging over his forehead, and she knew she would never love another man in her lifetime, even if Matt were to be taken from her tomorrow. Kitty arched her back to meet him while she reached down to touch herself where their two bodies joined as one. She saw his eyes darken with excitement as he watched her; when her body quickly responded, the resulting sweet inner embrace pushed Matt over the edge as well. He cried out, muffling his voice against the bedcovers. It wouldn't do for the whole saloon to hear the marshal upstairs in Miss Kitty's bedroom. Matt rolled to the side, and they lay silently for a while, resting, catching their breath.

Finally, wiping the sweat from his face, Matt asked with gentle concern, "Are you okay?"

Sighing in contentment, she rubbed his naked belly. "You always ask me that."

"I'm a big man, Kitty. I'm always afraid I'll hurt you."

"You never have." She turned on her side to face him and rested her head on an elbow.

Matt began picking stray hairpins out of her hair, allowing the remainder of her tousled hair to fall free. "Would you tell me the truth if I did? If I did hurt you?"

She started to tug some bedclothes over her nakedness. Matt pulled them back off with the plea, "It's not cold in here. Let a starvin' man who hasn't eaten in two weeks have his fill."

"Matt Dillon, I declare. You are incorrigible. When are you gonna- ?"

"Never." He wrapped an arm behind her, began slowly stroking her skin.

She traced her fingers over his bare chest, then kissed the broad expanse a dozen times.

"You haven't given me an answer yet, Kitty."

"What?" She nipped the tight bud of his nipple with her teeth.

"Ow! Quit that. You'll tell me if I hurt you?"

"I'll tell you, Matt Dillon. I pretty much tell you everything already."

"You do?"

"Yes, I do."

Taken aback, he questioned, "After all these years, you still do?"

"Yep, still do." She reached up and twirled one of his curls around her finger, emitted a husky laugh when he picked another hairpin out of her riotous hair and sent it pinging across the room.

"Will you tell me everything…always, Kitty?"

Kitty felt her eyes burning and a lump in her throat. She threaded her fingers through his baby fine tresses and replied, "I'll tell you everything…always, Matt."

"Promise?" He gave her his blinding, boyish grin that most people seldom saw these days, but thankfully she was witness to it more often than others.

"I promise." She squeezed him tightly, arms wrapped around his neck, her heart bursting, while he stroked that silky red hair he'd always loved so much, rubbing her back tenderly. Finally, she released him, attempting to unobtrusively wipe a little dampness from the corners of her eyes. He took her face between his hands and brushed his lips against her forehead.

She kissed him back deeply, on the mouth, humming her contentedness. Then she slowly, deliberately, began to speak. "As a matter of fact, I was, uh, going to…tell you about a dream I had while you were gone."

"Was I in your dream?"

"Course you were."

He smiled and lifted an eyebrow. He pulled her a little closer. "Tell me about it."

She traced circles on the bedcovers with her index finger and replied, "Well, I've never had a dream quite like it before."

"Whatta you mean? You have to tell me about it now."

"I'm not quite sure how to…"

"Just tell me, honey."

She sighed. Looked at his face then back down at the pattern on the quilt. Then she slipped an arm around his waist, pulled him close and whispered in his ear.

He listened intently, his pale blue eyes darting around the room, unfocused, as he took in her story. Suddenly he asked, "What'd you do then?"

Her face was flushed, and she pulled him close again, put her lips to his ear, continued relating her dream to him.

His mouth dropped open and he pulled away. "Kitty! Really?"

She nodded silently.

"Well…honey, it was just a dream after all. But, how did it end up?"

Her cheeks blushed scarlet as she wrapped her arms around his neck and relayed the information into his ear. His brows climbed toward his hairline as she spoke and a silly grin stole over his features.

She finished and rested her head on her elbow again. She stared at him wordlessly, chewing on a thumbnail.

"Damn, Kitty, I just don't know what to say." He still wore his grin.

"Don't say a word, Matt Dillon."

"But…"

"Not one word…"

"Alright, but I'm not giving up hope that one of these days we can…"

"Matt."

"Okay."

"Matt?"

"Yeah, honey?"

"I was…afraid you might not come home to me this time."

"Why, Kitty? I mean, my work is often dangerous. Why this time?"

"Because that dream was so real, Matt. I felt like you were right here in the room with me. It scared me somethin' awful. I couldn't sleep after that. I stayed up the rest of the night, thinkin' about you, about us, about all the good times we've had."

"Kitty, honey, we've talked about this. I wish you wouldn't worry so much. There isn't any sense in worrying because my job is risky every day. You'll worry yourself sick if you do that."

"I know, Matt, but this time was different. I could just…feel you…with me. I know it sounds awful silly."

He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips, kissed it softly. "I think about you all the time when I'm out there. I bring you with me, you _are_ with me, in here." He tapped a finger on his chest, over his heart. "Thinking about you when I'm forced to do some of the things I do…it keeps me sane, sweetheart." He cleared his throat, averted his eyes. "But you probably think that sounds silly."

She placed a hand on his cheek. "No, Matt, of course not. It makes me happy that you're thinkin' of me when you're not with me." She smiled, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

He heaved a big sigh. "Just last night, I was out there on the trail headed for Dodge, and I couldn't wait to get home to you. I was… I was feelin' pretty low because of how things went with those two bank robbers."

Kitty sat silently, holding his hand, not wanting to interrupt Matt's story.

"Yeah, Festus and I caught up with 'em but they wouldn't go down without a fight. We had to kill 'em. They'd murdered five innocent victims before we could do it though. I won't be forgettin' that any too soon."

She squeezed his hand in sympathy and dashed away a tear from the corner of her eye. She knew how badly Matt was hurting over this.

"And the last night on the trail, I couldn't sleep a wink, so I started thinkin' about you. You always seem to take my mind offa my problems, Kitty."

She smiled softly.

"I laid there for I don't know how long. Festus was a'sawin' them logs for a long time before I ever went to sleep. But I reminisced about…" He smiled shyly. "…our first night together. Remember that?"

"How could I forget, Cowboy? I had a hard time explaining to Bill Pence why my dress was downstairs in the office the next day."

"What did you tell him?"

"I don't remember exactly, but whatever it was, I don't think he quite believed me."

Matt chuckled. "I'll never forget that night, Kitty. And that last night on the trail, well, I was daydreamin' about you in the nighttime, Kitty."

"So, it was last night you were sleepless and thinkin' about me and old times together?"

"Yep."

"Well, I had my dream about you last night, too." She sharply raised an eyebrow. "Some coincidence, huh? We just got the newspaper report this mornin'. It was a two-day old Hays City newspaper that Doc got from a patient."

Matt's eyes opened wide and he pulled her close, kissing her temple. "We were just missing each other, Kitty. It was high time to be back together again."

"Guess you're right." Her eyes sparkled at him and one corner of her mouth turned up in a crooked smile. "Cause do you know how much I missed you, Matt?"

He grinned devilishly. "Why don't you show me, Miss Russell?"

Suddenly she sat up and straddled his belly, slim fingers raking the long red curls out of her heated blue eyes. She bit her plump bottom lip as she arched her back, hands coyly covering her ample breasts.

The sound Matt emitted at his glorious view was closer to a squeak than a manly U.S. Marshal vocalization.

She inquired in her most smoldering whiskey voice, "You did tell Festus to take your rounds for you tonight, right, Matt?"

He just nodded. No words sallied forth.

"So you can stay later than usual?"

Another nod, this time a little faster.

"Good. Cause you're a big man, Marshal Dillon, and it's gonna take me quite a while to kiss every inch a' you, you know." She winked at him, bent low and set to work.

"Ohhh… Kitty…"

end

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Thanks for reading. ;-)


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